


Proving Me Wrong

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-05
Updated: 2006-07-10
Packaged: 2019-01-19 03:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: War is coming. But no one knows that for years, Lily Evans has been fighting in a conflict much closer to home. The end is in sight, and it appears she may actually escape to a new life in the Wizarding world...until James Potter sees her battle scars.





	1. Back To School

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

 

CHAPTER 1

 

_ “Back To School”� _

 

Lily Evans’ trembling hands slid open the door to the Head Boy and Head Girl’s compartment. The floor gave a judder as the Hogwarts Express began to chug slowly out of Kings Cross Station. It took Lily an immense effort to drag her battered trunk in behind her, as her body was completely drained of energy. Although she would have refused, Lily was still silently fuming that no one had offered to help. 

After all, she was Head Girl, couldn’t people see the badge? But apart from a few gobsmacked first years who had innocently gawped as she struggled past them up the train, no one else had even glanced at her. 

Her face was red due to the searing heat she felt from her back. Lily gladly released her hold on her luggage, heaving a great sigh, and surveyed the carriage with an appraising glint in her tired green eyes. She was impressed. The dusty sunlight filtering through the window fell upon the Hogwarts crest sewn into the purple carpet on the floor. There were chocolate brown leather seats on either side of the compartment with a long diamond finish desk fixed to the floor in front of one.

Lily slumped down onto the nearest seat, careful not to sit back, thankful that she was alone for now. She closed her eyes and laid her head against the leather, breathing slowly and deeply. Even as she tried to pause for moment, to impede the barrage of thoughts in her mind for just an instant, she couldn’t help praying that the new Head Boy wasn’t from Slytherin House. This was basically because all of the Slytherin prefects (from whom the Head Boy would might have been chosen) treated her like scum. She wasn’t just a Muggleborn, but a _Mudblood_ to them.

Giving up her attempt to switch off, Lily moved on to consider the other possible candidates; Remus Lupin wouldn’t be too bad as Head Boy, she thought. But those _blasted_ friends of his… 

This year Lily was determined not to take anymore of their rubbish. If Potter or Black tried to pull anything, _anything,_ she would hex them into the next month. Well, at least when no one is looking, she added silently, remembering the Head Girl badge pinned to her chest. Lily had put up with James Potter and Sirius Black’s pranks and taunting for the past six years, vainly hoping they’d soon leave her alone and forget she even existed. However, to no avail, the Marauders managed to remember her every year. (What does that _mean_ anyway? She thought angrily, it’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard!) 

Frowning crossly, she continued thinking. The Marauders had always found time to make her feel dreadfully embarrassed on a daily basis. However, Lily’s regular humiliation did not diminish her pride. Despite some of the absolutely horrendous things they had done to her, (For a month in third year, she couldn’t pick up a quill without scribbling _‘POTTER RULES’_ all over herself.) She had never cried in front of any of the boys, and she vowed that she never would. 

Lily suddenly realised that she had never cried in front of anyone outside her own family, if you could call _them_ family. As her thoughts turned to her parents and only sister, she lifted her hand and lightly touched the area on her lower back.

Lily hissed in pain- her back was still extremely tender and stung so much her eyes began to water. She wiped them quickly on the back of her hand and sat stiffer in her seat even though she was still alone in the carriage. But if the Marauders caught her blubbering, they’d have a field day and she would never live it down.

Lily planned to show as little skin as possible during the month of September. It happened every year, like some pre-destined event on a calendar. Her dad would go out happy and come home furious. There was always some horrible mistake to be made on the 31st of August, whether it was back talking, leaving a mess in the kitchen, or just being ignorant, as her father put it.

She used to believe that he loved her, and that she _must_ had done something wrong, _terribly_ wrong to deserve it. Lily felt an uncharacteristic sneer cross her features at the thought. What an idiotic child she used to be. But that was ancient history now, she had wised up by fifth year. The night before she began her fifth year, Lily had stayed in her room all day to stop him getting angry…but had then been dragged out of bed by her hair at three in the morning. 

In her head she heard Petunia’s screams, “Stop, Dad! _STOP_!”�

Lily shivered and clasped her hands tightly together, scrunching her eyes to block out the thoughts, so tightly that she could see little fireworks exploding behind her eyelids. A pained expression appeared on her face. It was no use; she _couldn’t_ ignore it. 

_“Stop, Dad! STOP!”�_

 It would take at least a week for the throbbing in her back to subside, and another three weeks to heal. Lily was excellent at Potions, and normally she would brew something for the pain. But Slughorn’s private stores had been broken into in February last year, (by Potter and Black, no doubt) and since then he had moved all his ingredients to his chambers. This would mean that this year, Lily would just have to keep her head down and suffer the pain.

 

_“Get down these stairs now, young lady!”�_

_Lily walked halfway down the stairs and stopped, preferring to keep the distance between her and the man at the bottom._

_“Yes, Dad?”� she replied meekly, bitterly wondering what excuse he would have this time. She would have no qualms about snapping back at her dad, but she knew that now was not a time for heroics. ‘Just do whatever he says,’ she told herself. ‘Get it over with.’_

_“Look at me when I’m talking to you,”� her father slurred, holding onto the banister for support._

_The teenage girl lifted her gaze to her father, her bright green eyes betraying her fear._

_“What’s that it there?”� he asked coldly, pointing into the living room. Lily leaned over and looked. Petunia’s oaf of a boyfriend had eaten his tea on the sofa and hadn’t cleaned it up._

_Lily glanced at her dad, who was staring blankly at her through unfocused eyes, waiting for an answer._

_“It’s Vernon’s tea, Dad.”�_

_“What’s it doing there?”� he said in a frighteningly calm voice._

_“Petunia mustn’t have cle- ”�_

_“DON’T BLAME SOMEONE ELSE FOR YOUR MISTAKES, MISS!”� he barked, and Lily jumped._

_Lily allowed her temper to get the best of her again. “It isn’t my responsibility to run after Petty’s boyfriends like a servant, Dad!”�_

_Her father’s face held an ugly expression as he roared, “AND I SUPPOSE IT ISN’T YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO ANSWER THE PHONE? I TOLD YOU BEFORE I LEFT TO TAKE A MESSAGE FOR ME!”�_

_She panicked and gasped, “I’m sorry, Dad. I must have forgo-,”� but she was cut off as her father advanced up the stairs and gripped her brutally by the arm. He hauled her down, and thrust her into the living room. She stumbled and fell onto the carpet. She tried to get up but he shoved her back to the ground._

_“Dad, sorry! Please- PLEASE- PLEASE DON’T!”� She was kicked, causing her to roll onto her stomach. After the whisper of the belt, and a whistle through the air, it struck like a lighting bolt on her back. The silver buckle caught on her skin through her nightdress and tugged._

_She screamed._

And the buckle caught, and tugged again, slowly ripping her delicate skin. Her shrieks pierced the still summer air, travelling out the window and down the garden path onto the street where people were wending the way home from a night out. They ignored the unerring sounds, covering the uneasiness with a raucous song, and the next-door neighbours simply turned up the volume on their televisions.

__

_It suddenly stopped, and the belt was dropped beside Lily’s head. Her father staggered silently to the kitchen, and Lily bit her lip, waiting. But he didn’t return._

_She whimpered as she pushed herself off the floor, and she had to pause for a moment until her head stopped spinning._

_She stumbled to the bottom of the stairs, sobbing as she went, and had to climb up to get to her bedroom._

_The next morning she found her dad asleep at the kitchen table._

_She left without looking back._

__

 Lily loved returning to Hogwarts after the summer; it had become her second home a long time ago because she felt safe there. She knew that this year wouldn’t be so bad because she would never have to go back to Surrey ever again, and this lifted her spirits. After her N.E.W.Ts in June, Lily was hoping to take part in Auror-training in Kent and live in the wizarding world for the rest of her life. 

 

This year would be her best at Hogwarts, definitely. 

 

As if in reply to this thought, four teenage boys tumbled into the compartment all laughing and joking with one another. When they noticed the redhead sitting in the corner, their faces broke into four identical wicked grins.

 

 The tall young man with the messy black hair and glasses spoke first.

 “Well, well, well. If it isn’t _little Lily Evans_ …”�


	2. The Lion Sleeps Tonight

****

**  
**

PROVING ME WRONG

**  
  
**

 

LAST CHAPTER: - 

 

As if in reply to this thought, 4 teenage boys tumbled into the compartment all laughing and joking with one another. When they noticed the red head sitting in the corner, their faces broke into four identical wicked grins.

 The tall young man with the messy black hair and glasses spoke first, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t _little Lily Evans_ …”�

____

CHAPTER 2

  
__

“The Lion Sleeps Tonight”�

 

“Potter,”� replied Lily gruffly, half-pleased to see him as a distraction from the pain,  “What are you doing here?”� 

With a quick glance back at his friends, James smirked and said, “I’m Head Boy…naturally.”�

Lily scowled at she noticed the badge on his chest, and the boys behind him doubled up with laughter at her displeasure. She wouldn’t have believed it possible that someone could be so arrogant and bigheaded. James Potter reminded her that it was very possible.

She muttered, “What was the Headmaster drinking when he made that decision? One of your concoctions probably…”�

James sneered and retorted, “What was the hairdresser drinking when she cut that mop on your head? Oh wait, we can’t blame her, it’s not her fault your parents made a horrible mistake…”�

‘Ouch,’ Lily thought, ‘That hurt.’ Her emerald eyes almost gave her away but a second later they were flashing with pure hatred. ‘Get out,’ she told herself, ‘Before you do something you’ll regret.’

She stood up and faced James, who was at least a head taller than her. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, Potter,”� she spat his name like it was an insult, “You don’t like me and I most definitely _do not_ like you, but I worked really hard to get this badge and I won’t have you messing it up for me. So make fun of me now, but in front of the younger students and teachers, at least pretend to be civil…”�

She walked towards the door and slid it open; she turned around and cocked an eyebrow, “Or is that too much to ask of his highness?”�

She gave a mock bow and before James could respond, she slammed the door shut and preceded to the next carriage to check on the prefects…

 

“Who the hell does she think she is? Fucking Queen of Sheba?”� James exclaimed to his friends who were already raiding the cupboards, which were filled with butterbeer and Honeydukes chocolate. 

James was still standing staring at the closed door until the voice of his best friend regained his attention.

“Zumwon neez pollda stick outer arse,”� replied Sirius Black with his mouth full of sticky toffee. He was lying across one of the seats, with his head dangling over the edge so he was looking at everyone upside-down. 

“Too right,”� said Peter Pettigrew, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he tried to open a bottle of butterbeer with no success.

“Give it here,”� said Remus Lupin to Peter, who gave him the bottle, which Remus opened with apparent ease and passed back. He then returned to the desk in front of him where over 100 chocolate frog cards were laid out.

“Prongs,”� Sirius began finally managing to swallow the toffee, “Do you realise your going to be living in the same tower as Evans? _Evans_? For the whole year?”�

“Not if I can help it,”� replied James with grim expression. Then his face broke into a grin.

At this, Sirius’ eyes widened with interest and he shot upright from his position but immediately felt very light-headed. 

“Prongs… this is like that time when we all snuck out and stole firewhiskey from the Three Broomsticks. Do you remember that, eh?”� he asked, staggering towards James.

Remus sniggered as Sirius tripped over his own feet and lay sprawled out on the floor. James bent down and picked him up by the scruff of the neck. Sirius righted himself and said, “What are you laughing at Moony? If my memory serves me correctly, it was you who was singing and dancing outside ‘Dervish and Bangs’ and woke up the owners, am I mistaken?”�

At this, James, Sirius and Peter burst out laughing. Sirius was leaning onto James for support so he wouldn’t end up on the floor again, Peter was spraying the compartment with Butterbeer and Remus was sinking lower and lower into his seat smiling with embarrassment.

James stopped laughing long enough to ask, “Wha- what song was it again, Moony?”�

Remus’s face went red at this and he sank even lower in his chair until all they could see above the desk was a ruby forehead. The he mumbled, ‘…The Lion Sleeps Tonight.’

This earned a fresh roar of loud laughter and James immediately burst into song.

‘ _A weem ba wah a weem bah wah A weem ba wah A weem ba wah…_ ’

He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and waved his hands as if conducting an invisible orchestra.

Sirius came in with the chorus while he enthusiastically clicked his fingers and swayed from side to side, ‘ _In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight,_

_In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight.’_

_‘A weem ba wah a weem bah wah A weem ba wah A weem ba wah…’_

_‘Near the village, the peaceful village, the lion sleeps tonight,_

_Near the village, the quiet village, the lion sleeps tonight.’_

_‘A weem ba wah a weem bah wah A weem ba wah A weem ba wah…_ ’

“Come on Moony,”� Sirius called, “ I don’t know the rest of the words.”�

Sirius jumped up onto the brown leather seat, which James was already on and joined in with him.

Remus surprised everyone when he suddenly pushed himself out of his seat and started doing some sort of crazy monkey dance, much to the amusement of his best friends. And then he began to sing,

_‘_ _Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darling, the lion sleeps tonight,_

_Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darling, the lion sleeps tonight.’_

Taking a deep breath, James and Sirius jumped off the seat and landed on the floor with a bang and continued crooning,

‘ _A weeeeeem, weeeeeiiieeee a weeum-um a way, A weeeeeem, weeeeeiiieeee a weeum-um a way…_ ’

Their singing soon died down and the three of them, out of breath, collapsed onto the nearest seat…on top of Peter.

“Padfoot,”� came the small boy’s muffled voice, “Would you mind getting your arse outta my face?”�

The three of them jumped up and pulled him off the sofa.

“Sorry, mate,”� said James with a grin as Peter brushed himself off.

Remus started clearing away his chocolate frog cards while James cast ‘Aridio’ over the compartment, drying up the butterbeer.

“Prongs? Yeah, what were you saying about Evans?”� asked Sirius who was rummaging through his pockets, looking for something.

“Oh yeah, her,”� answered James, his smile disappearing, “I found an itching curse in one of the books at home, I forgot to tell you.”�

“Yeah, so what? You’re going to put it on Evans and force her out of your tower?”�

“That’s the plan, Padfoot old friend.”�

“Great stuff, when are we going to execute this plan? In public I hope…”�

“No, I’ll put the curse on her as soon as we’re in the tower. It’s a good quality jinx, mind you, just wait and see, by breakfast time tomorrow she’ll be _begging_ me to take it off…”� “Come on back to our seats, we need to get our robes on,”� said Remus, who left the compartment followed by Sirius, James and Peter.

 

Lily strode into the Prefects’ compartment, quite confident after having the last word with James Potter, and therefore wasn’t that nervous about giving out orders.

She immediately spotted Severus Snape and Bellatrix Black in the corner, giving her a look of deep disgust, which she was only too pleased to return.

“Right,”� she began, “welcome back everyone, I hope you all had a good summer,”� she gave the boys and girls around her a small smile.

“The first prefect meeting will be Sunday evening, 8 o’ clock sharp, in the meeting room on the 2nd floor. I just need the four passwords to the house dormitories to pass on to Dumbledore, do you have them ready?”�

Four pieces of paper were passed up to her, which read:

Shooting Star 

‘Gryffindor,’ she thought, ‘God, there are more important things in life than Quidditch.

Aut disce aut discede

‘Either learn or leave,’ said Lily to herself, ‘That’s Ravenclaw alright.’

Fidelius

She hadn’t a clue what the Hufflepuff password meant, but there was a bell ringing in her mind. She must have read about it in a Charms book or something.

_Mudblood_

Lily trembled with rage as she read the Slytherin password, “Twenty points from Slytherin, for bigotry,’ she said coolly, looking at Black and Snape in the eye. 

She said, “Hope you have a good year, and I’ll see you at the feast,”� before turning on her heal and exiting the compartment.

 She went back to the Heads’ carriage and peered in through the door, relieved to find it empty, and clean. After grabbing her robes out of her trunk, she made her way to the toilet and locked the door once inside. She gently removed her denim jacket and threw it on the floor. Next she lifted up her t-shirt and attempted to put a concealment charm on her back, just in case someone would see. The glamour didn’t work; she knew her cuts were too fresh, although it had been worth a try. She never looked at her scars until she knew she was totally alone, maybe in the next few days when Potter was out of their dormitory she would get to check her wounds, but until then she would have to put up with it.

Experiencing another searing pain on her back as she pulled her school jumper over her head, Lily whimpered. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; a pale face contorted in agony, red hair gone frizzy with static from her sweater, and bright green eyes welling up under dark lashes. 

Lily couldn’t help thinking that she didn’t deserve such eyes, they should have belonged to someone who smiled all the time and winked confidentially to friends, and only cried tears of laughter.

They were someone else’s eyes, not hers. No one in their right mind would give such beautiful things to a person who frowned more than they smiled, never winked at anyone, and was sad too frequently for any pair of eyes to bear.

 

Lily’s thoughts were interrupted as the train slowed to a standstill and she heard Hagrid’s booming voice.

 “Firs’ years! Firs’ years this way!”�


	3. Infinite Pain

  
** PROVING ME WRONG **

__

CHAPTER 3

_ “Infinite Pain”� _   


Lily got off the train and went to find a carriage for herself. She found an empty one, but soon after three seventh year girls clambered in beside her.

“Hello, Lily. Congrats on making Head Girl!”� said a blonde haired, blue-eyed girl with a round, good-natured face.

“Thanks, Alice. Did you have a good summer?”� Lily replied, forcing a smile while she thought about her own holiday.

“Yes, it was alright, I suppose…”� Alice trailed off with a worried expression on her face.

“Why, what happened? Did you and Frank break up?”� asked Lily anxiously.

The other two girls started laughing together until Lily glared at them, demanding to know what was wrong.

“Well, you see Lily,”� started Tabitha, “Alice met Frank’s mother during the summer and--”�

“And she’s the scariest woman I’ve EVER met!”� exclaimed Alice, throwing her hands into the air and standing up in the carriage. “She is terrifying! I feel so sorry for Frank! I was always worried about doing or saying the wrong thing, but she always found something to criticise! Nothing was good enough for her or her son, including me!”� 

 Alice collapsed back down when she finished her outburst and sighed exasperatedly.

Lily said, “I’m sure Frank doesn’t care what his mother thinks. It can’t have been that bad. She’s a person just like the rest of us.”�

“Lily, _you_ wouldn’t understand. You’ve never had to meet your boyfriend’s parents before, it’s the most nerve-wracking experience ever.”�

Lily took offence to this last statement, but forgave Alice immediately. Alice was upset and didn’t know what she was saying. 

_I could have had boyfriends if I wanted,_ said a little voice inside her head, _But they are just men after all, and I know what men do to you…_

Lily remembered being very affectionate as a child, but as she grew up and experienced more, she became colder towards people. She didn’t like the thought of other people hugging her and kissing her because it was alien to her. Lily had often watched friends hugging at the end of the year, in awe of the ease with which they wrapped their arms around another person and held on tight, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She couldn’t imagine ever being able to do that to someone, especially a boy. Shuddering slightly, she removed herself from the conversation completely and passed the time staring out of the window at the twinkling lights of Hogwarts castle.

The Welcoming Feast passed with no excitement; Lily sat at the end of the Gryffindor table and ate in silence. Lily knew practically everyone in the school on a first name basis and would say “Hello”� and “Goodbye”�, but as far as friendships went, she didn’t have any.

However, Lily knew that people _did_ respect her. Since her fifth year when she became a prefect, students of different houses would come to her for help because they knew she got things done, unlike one _Remus Lupin_ who let his friends make a mockery of the school rules.

Lily was exceptionally gifted at Charms, and this came in handy when repairing any of the damage the Marauders made to her, or anyone else’s appearance. Yes, Lily Evans could fix whiskers, flipper feet, and polka-dot skin, like _that._

This was probably why Potter and Black were the constant thorn in her side; they always wanted to see if there was something she _couldn’t_ fix herself, something permanent.

They were always pushing her, hoping to push her over the edge, and when it happened, she knew, they would both rue the day they met Lily Anne Evans.

After the feast, Lily felt rather than saw Professor McGonagall’s pointed look and immediately walked across to the staff table. Potter followed Lily over and gave her a knowing smirk before turning his attention to the stern witch in front of him.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Evans. Please follow me to your quarters.”�

She walked briskly out of the Great Hall and up many flights of stairs with the two teenagers following her, finally halting in front of a large painting.

The portrait was of a boy and girl standing side by side. They were both wearing Hogwarts robes and seemed to be whispering excitedly out of the sides of their mouths.

“Here we are,”� McGonagall said, “The password is ‘ _Cum tacent, clamant_ ’”�

Lily and James both nodded in assent.

“I think that’s everything,”� she said turning away, “Oh yes, Mr. Potter?”�

James looked at his Head of House with an expression of innocence and replied, “Yes, Professor?”�

“May I remind you that no one other than you and Miss Evans are allowed in those quarters? No one?”�

“Yes, ma’am,”� he said, giving the professor a smile that she returned.

Lily was disgusted. _Look at the state of him_ , she thought, _thinking he can win over a teacher with his stupid grins. Oh my God! She’s actually falling for it! You think you know someone after seven years…_

Lily suddenly realised that she was standing alone in the corridor and that Potter had already crawled in through the hole leading to their dorms.

 

***

 

James heard Evans follow him through the portrait hole and smirked, it was time to put his plan into action. 

Lily started walking around their common room, and while she examined the bookcase in the corner James pointed his wand at her and murmured, _scabios_.

To his delight she immediately stiffened and closed her eyes, muttering under her breath. Suddenly her eyes shot open again, and she walked quickly to her room slamming the door shut behind her.

“What’s the matter Evans, _itching_ to get started with schoolwork?”� called James with glee. 

One thing bothered him though. He wondered why she didn’t threaten him with a hex, and he had expected her to be screaming at him by now. James admitted to himself that it was obviousthat he did it. Was Evans going stupid? No, that couldn’t be it. He still wondered why she was taking it so quietly. God knows it must be irritating, maybe even painful.

Brushing his thoughts of Evans aside, James took the time to observe his new home.

Naturally, it was decorated with deep burgundy and gold drapes, cushions, and throws. There were two comfortable looking sofas in front of the fire, which was crackling merrily. 

There was a large bookcase in the corner, and James knew for a fact that he would notbe using that very often. He then spotted the door with a knob shaped like a lion’s head that presumably led to the Gryffindor common room. He went through the door to be greeted with shouts of adoration from his fellow Gryffindors. That night’s celebratory bash meant that James didn’t get to bed until the early hours of the morning. 

If he had returned sooner James would have realised that Lily hadn’t come out of her room at all.

 

***

 

Lily had been looking at all of the books in front of her, her thirst for knowledge creeping back to the surface again when suddenly her already stinging back became incredibly itchy. There had always been the possibility of her wounds becoming infected, but Lily usually was able to make a simple salve for her gashes to prevent it. That is, until Slughorn’s private stores had been spelled shut.

She hissed in sudden pain, as though struck, and all thoughts of Potter and Black were burned from her mind. _Oh God_ , she closed her eyes and arched her back away from the cotton shirt which now felt like sandpaper against her skin. She unseeingly replaced the book she had been holding and made headed quickly to her room, trying not to crumple in pain on the stairs. She managed it to the top and slammed her bedroom door, determined not to hear another of Potter’s snide remarks.

Lily couldn’t risk looking at her back. What if a teacher arrived, looking for her? Even worse, what if _Potter_ walked in? It was just the sort of thing he would do, too, barging in to her bedroom without knocking.

Lily needed to change for bed. She found a large green shirt with long sleeves and a pair of men’s boxers and put them on. She then started to look for a special pair of earrings in her trunk; they were special because Lily had bewitched them to play music that only she could hear, like Muggle headphones. Lily found the pair of music note shaped earrings and put them on. She tapped each one with her wand and whispered, “Teenage Kicks, Undertones.”�

She then carefully crawled onto her bed, lying on her stomach, and turned her head to the side. She concentrated on the music as a means to block out the infinite pain. The blaring melody wasn’t enough though, nothing could block out the thoughts of her family and her fear of _that_ house. 

Every wall, every floor, every door, and every stair held terrible memories for Lily. She had always planned to write an autobiography, the bruises on her body told the story already, and she would merely translate them into words.

An hour later Lily curled up into a ball and quietly cried herself to sleep, still listening to the same song.

_“Are teenage dreams so hard to beat_  
Every time she walks down the street   
Another girl in the neighbourhood   
Wish she was mine, she looks so good 

_I wanna hold you, wanna hold you tight  
Get teenage kicks right through the night”�_


	4. Holy Fuck

Proving Me Wrong

 

 

Chapter 4

 

***** CHAPTER 3: She then carefully crawled onto her bed, lying on her stomach, and turned her head to the side. She concentrated on the music as a means to block out the infinite pain as she silently cried herself to sleep…  
*****

 

Lily woke up the next morning at 8 o’ clock to be greeted with a fresh bout of pain across her back. She got dressed as quickly as her wounds would allow, grabbed her bag and walked gingerly downstairs without stopping in the common room. 

 

She trudged down to the Great Hall to find that she was not the only one up. Bellatrix Black and Severus Snape were at the Slytherin table in deep discussion. Lily prayed that Bellatrix didn’t notice her, that girl had it in for Lily, and she knew it. It was the fact that she was a muggle born… but there was something more as well that Lily couldn’t understand. I mean, you can only hate someone to a certain extent because of his or her parentage, right? Just then, Bellatrix looked up through her dark eyes, glaring at the new Head Girl.

 

Ignoring the girl’s look, Lily sat down at her usual seat and found a stack of timetables sitting in front of her. There was a note on top:

 

_Mr. Potter & Miss Evans,_

_Please distribute these timetables to each of the houses during breakfast this morning,_

_Prof. M. Mc Gonagall_

 

 

Lily eyed the Slytherin table warily; maybe if she took her time with the other houses, Potter would be down by then and could do Slytherin for her. 

‘What am I saying?’ Lily asked herself, ‘Am I actually hoping Potter will help me? Yeah right!’

 

With strengthened resolve, Lily stood up quickly… a bit * too * quickly if you asked her, and at once another searing pain went across her back. It felt like she was getting lashed all over again. But knowing that Bellatrix’s heavy lidded eyes were trained on her, Lily didn’t show the agony she was in.

 

She walked purposefully to the top of each bench and sorted the timetables into 7 piles, one for each year. Lily sorted the Slytherin timetables at the Hufflepuff side, so she had to spend less time with Black and Snape. The Head Girl was in too much pain to be held responsible for her actions if Bellatrix started with her this morning. 

 

That second, Lily had an idea. The redhead returned the sneer on Black’s face with a pleasant smile as she used the Banishing charm to send the timetables over to Slytherin. Quite pleased with herself for avoiding * that * particular situation and delighted at the look on Bellatrix’s face, Lily thought today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

The rest of the day passed quickly for Lily, nothing out of the ordinary happened, except for the fact that the Marauders kept on staring at her back as if they were waiting for something. Did they know about her dad? Her home life? The thought of it made Lily feel ill. No, she told herself firmly, they are a bunch of stupid boys, they wouldn’t notice abuse if it was a neon sign stuck over their eyes.

 

 Lily decided that the Marauders were just trying to make her uncomfortable. Well, Lily thought, it’s working! At breakfast the boys stares were rather unsettling, but by 3 o’ clock Lily was quite sick of their expectant gazing.

 

So in Charms, she turned sharply round in her seat to face the four of them and whispered, “Black, I know you have the brain the size of an Every Flavour Bean, but Flitwick’s up * there *, you stupid git,”� pointed to the front of the classroom, “even Potter could tell you that,”� and turned back to face the teacher.

 

James opened his mouth to say something, but she was too fast for him. Lily rolled her eyes and still facing the front, added with extra spite, “And * no * Potter, that was * not * a compliment.”�

 

***** James Potter sat beside his best friend in Charms class, looking dumbfounded at the girl in front of him. 

Sirius leaned over and spoke out of the side of his mouth in a low urgent voice, “Prongs, why hasn’t it worked?”�

James was very confused; he had never cast a curse that didn’t work before. Why isn’t she scratching her back or screaming at me, or something?

James then remembered that Sirius had asked him a question, so he whispered back, “I- I don’t know.”�

At this reply three pairs of eyebrows shot up, James Potter always knew, James Potter never made mistakes, not with pranks at least. 

 

After classes James skipped dinner to find out what went wrong with the curse. He wouldn’t be seen dead in the library, unless it was to annoy Evans, so he decided that he would look through the books in his new common room.

 

***** Lily was extremely satisfied that she had rendered the Marauders silent but it didn’t help the fact that her back still felt like it was on fire. After classes she skipped dinner to find some sort of cleaning spell for infected wounds. She could never go to Madam Pomfrey, Lily was sure she would die of shame. People would pity her, and that’s the last thing she wanted or needed. She couldn’t go to the library, because if the boys found their voices soon that is the first place they’d look for her. So there was only one option.

 

Lily got in to find the common room empty; she searched through the bookshelf for a good fifteen minutes before declaring defeat. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by teetering piles of medical journals and whatnot. There would definitely be some books about healing cuts in the hospital wing, she could sneak in and- Lily stopped herself, what was she thinking? ‘Stealing books from the hospital wing? Are you mad? You could lose your badge over that!’ she told herself sternly.

 

Just then James Potter sauntered through the portrait hole, how you can saunter through a hole Lily did not know, but James Potter managed it. 

 

“Talking to yourself again, Evans? Your crazier than I thought,”� said James with a smirk on his face, but his heart wasn’t in it. He just wanted to chase her out of the room so he could look through the books, which she happened to be sitting in front of.

 

“Sod off, Potter,”� Lily retorted sharply.

 

“Now, now Evans,”� replied James mockingly, “It’s my common room too you know, didn’t your parents ever teach you how to share?”�

 

James didn’t know about Lily’s parents, nor did he emphasise the word when he spoke it, but to Lily it felt like he did. Why did words hurt so much more when he said them? Lily wondered.

 

In response to this fairly harmless comment, in James’s opinion, she slammed the book in front of her shut, cast him a look of pure venom and stomped upstairs to her room.

 

‘Crap, crap, crap,”� cursed James under his breath. She wasn’t supposed to go to her room, she was supposed to leave altogether, why didn’t she go to the library? 

 

‘She sure picked a good time to start changing her habits,’ thought James.

 

He decided to go on to dinner, hopefully it wasn’t over yet, and then later on that night when Evans was in bed, he would get a chance to look through the books. 

 

‘That is if she hasn’t changed her sleeping habits as well,’ James added spitefully before heading towards the great hall.

 

*****Lily stayed in her room for the rest of the evening, not wanting to go to dinner despite her stomach’s protests. She spent a few hours reading the assigned pages in her Transfiguration textbook; they were now learning human transfiguration, about animagi and such, and Lily couldn’t wait to get started. 

 

She had noticed over the years that James Potter was very talented with transfiguration, gifted even, though she would never admit it. Lily wouldn’t be surprised if he became an animagus one day. He would probably become a peacock, Lily snorted.

 

At 1 o’clock in the morning, Lily got out of bed and crept down to the bathroom, she would finally be able to check her back. But first she had a bath and washed her hair; she kept the water lukewarm so it didn’t irritate her cuts further.

 

She got out of the bath and wrung the excess water out of her fiery red hair, which was beginning to dry in soft waves. She got changed in the bathroom, putting on a pair of green boxers and a large shirt. She only fasten a few buttons on the shirt so she could slide it off her shoulders to examine her back but still hold it up to cover her front. She pulled all of her over to one shoulder and turned to face the mirror and inspect the damage.

 

*****

 

James came back after dinner and went straight to his room to polish his broomstick. (A/N: James: - “Get your minds out of the gutter!”�) His parents had bought him the new Cleansweep 2 for his birthday in May and it was his most prized possession.

 

At one o’ clock in the morning, James crept down to the common room and started looking through the books that still littered the floor. None of them were very helpful and James decided to return to bed. 

 

He was about to go up the stairs when he noticed a sliver of light coming from underneath the bathroom door. James went up to the door and listened, there was no sound. He expected that Evans had forgotten to turn off the light when she was in there last. James pushed the door to find that it opened easily and as he opened his mouth to whisper, “Nox,”� he saw her standing there. 

 

She was standing in front of the full-length mirror and James had to admit to himself that Lily Evans was stunning. She was wearing only a shirt and a pair of boxers, but even in those, she took his breath away.

Evans didn’t notice his presence because she was crying. James realised this, and he guessed it was because of him. ‘Maybe my curse did work!’ he thought triumphantly, but looking at her face again, that feeling soon disappeared.

 

Her startling green eyes were filled with hurt. James thought she looked totally and utterly lost. As the tears rolled down her pale cheeks, she bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes in anguish, she seemed to James to be experiencing pure agony.

 

Before James could get her attention, his eyes travelled lower and rested on her back, or what was left of it.

 

James’s eyes went wide with shock and the only words he managed to breathe were, “Holy fuck.”�


	5. James

PROVING ME WRONG

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

_Before he could get her attention, her knees gave way and she fell to the floor, exposing her back, or in his opinion…what was left of it._

__

_James’s eyes went wide with shock and he managed to breathe two words,_

__

_“Holy fuck.”�_ ____

 

CHAPTER 5

 

_ “Proving Me Wrong”� _

__

__

Great dirty gashes littered her back, crisscrossing each other in a grotesque pattern, forming a savage carving on her body. Nothing could have prepared James for that sight, or for the disgusting feeling of responsibility that made him want to vomit.

 

_Jesus Christ, what have I done? What have I fucking done?_

__

It took him a second to mentally shake himself and rationalise. 

 

_James you dolt,_ he told himself fiercely _, an itching hex out of a Zonko’s prank book wouldn’t do that, no spell you know could have done that…_

__

_***_

__

Lily looked around, knowing in the pit of her stomach who she was about to see.

 

Yes, it was James Potter. _God, he is always in the right place at the right time, isn’t he?_

__

In the few seconds that the two stared at each other in disbelief, Lily passed through a range of emotions…

 

Fear

 

Shock

 

Anger

 

But before Lily’s fiery temper could take control, she arrived at the last and most definitely, the worst emotion…

 

 

Shame

 

Complete and utter gut-wrenching shame filled Lily as she contemplated what this meant. James Potter had seen a part of Lily that no one else had seen, in her seven years at Hogwarts. He would tell everyone, she knew it, and he would take away the last thing she had, her dignity.

 

***

 

He saw her shiver before turning around to face him, still on the floor. He watched her eyes, he was entranced by them.  He saw them widen with shock and then narrow in anger.

 

In any other circumstances, James would have left, quickly. She seemed ready to pounce, but he stood his ground. He wanted, no, _needed_ to know how this had happened, and more importantly… _who had done it_?

 

Lily was shocked when she saw James’s eyes flash with an anger she had never seen before. It frightened her.

 

_After all, I am Head Boy. I should know if a student has been attacked_ , he told himself.

 

Her eyes changed again, they were brimming with tears. James somehow knew it was agonizing for her to even cry in front of him. She looked helpless, staring at him with those emerald orbs, silently pleading with him.

__

_Leave me alone. Go away. Please, just walk away_ , her eyes said.

 

James’s eyes replied, fixing her with an unblinking stare which clearly said, 

 

_I can’t leave, not now._

 

Admitting defeat, Lily closed her eyes once more, a pained expression on her face and hanging her head in-

 

_Shame,_ James thought, perplexed. _If someone’s attacked her, she’s got no reason to be embarrassed. But maybe,_ he added wisely, _maybe she’s embarrassed that she couldn’t protect herself._

 

He made to move towards her, hand outstretched, but she scrambled backwards against the wall, crying out as it made contact with her back. 

 

James stopped in his tracks, wincing as she broke the silence with her cry. His chest tightened.

 

“Evans, I don’t want to hurt you,”� he spoke softly.

 

Despite her anguish, Lily still managed an incredulous snort at his statement. 

 

James should have expected this, it _was_ Evans after all.

 

“Evans,”� he tried again.

 

“Save it, Potter,”� she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. 

 

She pulled herself to her feet, and James could see her shaking violently. She staggered towards the door, holding onto the sink for support, and then opened it.  

 

Through the door was a deserted corridor, into which Lily walked into, without a backwards glance. James saw that some blood from her back was seeping through her green shirt, staining it a murky brown colour.

 

James took a step after her, and almost as if she had sensed him, she spoke so quietly that James nearly didn’t hear, “Don’t follow me, James.”�

 

James leant against the wall, and slid down to the floor, resting his head in his hands. He listened to her retreating footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

 

He didn’t know what to do, she told him not to follow her, but if she collapsed down in the dungeons or somewhere it would be his fault.

 

Then, after a few minutes, James processed what Lily’s final words were,

 

_Don’t follow me, James._

 

And with a jolt, he realised something. Running a hand distractedly through his already messy black hair, he got off the floor and walked out into the empty corridor. 

 

“She called me James,”� he murmured, before fixing his glasses and sprinting down the corridor after her.

 

 

__

__


	6. Prove Me Wrong

PROVING ME WRONG

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

_And with a jolt, he realised something. Running a hand distractedly through his already messy black hair, he got off the floor and walked out into the empty corridor._

__

_“She called me James,”� he murmured, before fixing his glasses and sprinting down the corridor after her._ __

____

 

CHAPTER 6

 

_ “Prove Me Wrong”� _

_ _

James felt like he had been running for days, his legs were aching and his head spinning. Something inside of him needed to know what happened to Evans. It definitely had to have been serious, for her to have gotten those awful slashes across her back, _and_ for her to call him by his first name.

 

Finally, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a streak of flame red hair. He whipped around in time to see a door bang shut and hear the click of a lock. He quickened his pace and ran towards it, coming to a halt just before he slammed into worn oak. Panting, James began pounding on the door, “Evans? Evans! Come on, open up!”� His fists were still pounding the air when the door swung open, his shouts stopped abruptly.

 

He pulled his wand out of his sock and muttered, “Lumos.”�  James crept cautiously into the room, which would have been pitch black had it not been for the moonlight filtering through the windows. Shiny metal glinted at him from every direction, twinkling sinisterly from behind their glass cabinets. _I’m in the trophy room_ , James realised. He was just wondering where Evans had gone, when, as if in answer to his silent question, the door snapped shut behind him. He dropped his wand in surprise, a very un-Potter-like move, he was glad Sirius wasn’t here. But before he could react, he found himself face to face with the object of his pursuit, Lily-

 

“Evans,”� said James, his tone sounding too concerned for his liking. He looked at her wand pointing directly at his heart, then at her face, which was contorted in a mixture of pain and fury.

 

“Why did you follow me, Potter?”� she asked in a low dangerous voice.

 

Though he would never admit it, James was slightly hurt that he had been demoted to ‘Potter’ again, _what happened to James? What went on between the bathroom and here?_ He wondered.

 

Swiftly regaining his usual swagger he replied, “Because I want to know what happened to you.”�

 

“Why?”� she demanded, her eyes flashing.

__

“Because, as _Head Boy_ , it’s my duty to uphold school rules and if a student’s been attacked, I am obliged to report it to Dumbledore,”� he drawled, trying to convince her…and himself.

 

“Well,”� Lily hissed, cocking her head to one side and mocking him. “As _Head Girl_ , I am fully aware of what you are, and are not _obliged_ to do. But I can assure you that no one has been attacked, so there will be no need to inform Dumbledore, will there?”�

 

James raised his eyebrows in disbelief and gestured at the blood stain on the back of her shirt, “But, your ba-“

 

“My back is fine,”� she cut in. Her eyes were boring into his, daring him to suggest otherwise. 

 

Despite the fact that she was seeing three Potters rather than one, Lily grinned inwardly, she was in control of the situation. That’s how she liked it best.

 

But before she could think of what to do next, Lily was subjected to another dose of blinding pain. It was worse than before, much worse. Her spine was burning and her skin crawling. 

 

Her limbs crumpled and she fell to the ground with a thud. She was finding it difficult to breathe; she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs. Lily forgot who was in the room with her, and curled up into a ball with fresh tears making their way down her cheeks.

 

***

 

James was at a loss what to do. One minute, Evans had been _this close_ to putting an Unforgivable on him, the next, she was crying in agony again. One look at her tear stained face and James felt that odd tightening sensation in his chest again. 

 

He knelt down beside her; afraid to go and get help in case she cursed him, afraid to touch her in case he hurt her anymore, and then for doing so, she would curse him as well. In James’s eyes it was a lose-lose situation. 

 

 Finding something to do, he went and got his wand, which had rolled underneath the grand cabinet that held the shield for _Special Services to the School._ Grabbing his wand, James straightened up and read the name _T.M.Riddle_ emblazoned across it. James knew who Riddle was, though they had never met. With one last look of disgust at the shield, James returned to Evans’s side.

 

After a minute, she gasped the words, “Itching hex…off…now…please!”�

 

The bottom of his stomach dropped when she said this. She knew he had done it, she knew he had done it… and _he was still alive_? James pointed his wand at her and said, “Finite incantatem.”� He was furious with himself that he hadn’t thought of that sooner.

 

At his words, her body went limp, obviously relieved, but still in pain.

 

Taking in deep breaths, Lily got to her feet and leant her forehead on the cold stone wall, she was burning up. The only sound to be heard now was her heaving breathing, her lungs settling down again.

 

James stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking anxiously at the girl he thought was perfect.

 

“Evans, tell me what happened, and I’ll leave. I swear. Who attacked you?”� said James honestly. 

 

“If I was attacked - by some Slytherin - or something, - do you not think - I would have gone - straight to Dumbledore?”� she asked, her forehead still against the wall, as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

 

“I don’t know, well, yeah, probably. But then what happened?,”� he paused, debating whether to say what was on his mind, “Those wounds look fresh, so it must have happened in the past few days,”� James continued warily.

 

“Anything that happens to me outside of Hogwarts is none of your, or anyone else’s business,”� she whispered, mentally scolding herself for being so weak, and for even talking to him.

 

“Did something happen on the train? At Kings Cross? In Diagon Alley? What?”� James was getting a bit hysterical now, and he didn’t know why.

__

“Why should I tell _you,_ of all people?”� Lily spat, angry for not leaving yet.

 

Trying to block the mental image of her back, he said softly, “I know I’m a bastard to you Evans, but I’d never, _never_ , do that.”� 

 

“Yeah, well, somebody else obviously would,”� Lily muttered bitterly to herself, but James heard.

 

“A name, just give me a name and I’ll-”� he asked, almost pleaded. _Why do I need to know again?_ He asked himself _. Oh yeah, because I’m Head Boy and it’s my ob-_

 

“And you’ll what?”� she shouted, confused and angry. Lily didn’t know what was happening anymore, Potter wasn’t supposed to question her, he shouldn’t even care.

 

_Wrap it up, Lily,_ she told herself firmly, _before you end up blabbing._

__

Lily heaved a sigh and spoke clearly, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. She still faced the wall, looking anywhere but his direction. 

 

“Potter-,”� she stopped and sighed again, “James… for seven years you have made my life a living hell,”� she stated, “It’s a well known fact.”�

 

James opened his mouth but she held up a shaking hand, “No, let me talk.”� James closed his mouth.

 

“All I’m saying is this, we have seen the effect you have on my school-life, so what good can come of you getting involved with my home-life? Honestly?”�

 

James started to speak but she turned around to face him and he stopped. Her stare was so intense; it felt like she was looking into his soul.

 

“You don’t care about what happens to me,”� she whispered, “You don’t.”� 

_Who am I trying to convince?_ Lily wondered.

    

“Anything I say here you will use against me, but I’m not going to give you that opportunity.  I know you’re going to tell the rest of the ‘marauders’ about this as soon as I leave here, you’re so predictable.”�

Her emerald eyes sparked, challenging him, “You love proving me wrong on all other occasions, why not now? _Prove me wrong_ , James. Don’t tell your friends what you saw, don’t tell Dumbledore, or McGonagall, or Madam Pomfrey, no one. Do you hear me? This never happened; you can continue on with your perfect little life, you can keep tormenting me, though I’d rather you wouldn’t. And I’ll-,”�she stopped and closed her eyes, as if giving in to something, “I’ll continue with my- _life_.”�

 

Then without a backward glance Lily swept from the trophy room and for the first time since he arrived, James felt how cold it was.

 

_Well,_ he thought, _she does have a point; I do_ **love** _proving her wrong…but, what a minute…did she say-_

__

“Home-life?”�

 

Beads of cold sweat ran down his face as he contemplated what this meant.

 

At that moment, James felt his world crash around him. And at that moment he knew…

 

 

 Things would never be the same again.


	7. Axis

PROVING ME WRONG

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

“Home-life?”�

 

Beads of cold sweat ran down his face as he contemplated what this meant.

 

At that moment, James felt his world crash around him. And at that moment he knew…

 

 Things would never be the same again.

____

 

CHAPTER 7

 

_ “Axis”� _

 

As soon as Lily said her piece, she had only one objective, “Run.”�

_ _

The calm exterior she had retained in the trophy room was deteriorating. Tears were threatening to spill again for the fourth time that night. Yes, she had been counting. Somewhere underneath the shame, agony and fear, Lily had remembered her vow to never cry in front of a Marauder. Now, she had not only broken that vow, but obliterated it. 

 

She passed through dark corridors without lighting her wand, walked up staircases without checking if there was a trick step, and didn’t even flinch when she heard the ominous _meow_ of a cat. Lily stopped and looked straight into the lamp-like eyes of Mrs. Norris. Lily’s own eyes looked dangerous, and the green pigment had deepened to almost black. The scrawny feline opened its mouth to emit another fateful call when Lily pulled out her wand and whispered, “Silencio,”� before continuing on her way.

 

Her heart was pounding in her chest, she was sure it would wake up the whole castle. Lily was furious with herself, how could she have let something like this happen? It was all her fault, why didn’t she just lock the damn door? _Why_? She might as well have just invited James Potter to sleepover at her house some night! 

 

_Calm down,_ Lily told herself, _he doesn’t know what happened to you, he thinks you were only attacked by a student._ As she thought this, Lily’s heart sank, but she thought nothing of it.

__

Lily was mentally thanking God for giving her a quick mind, otherwise she would never have thought of a way to keep Potter quiet. She had given him a challenge, one that he couldn’t refuse. _What was she sayin_ g? James Potter didn’t refuse _any_ challenge, whether it was fitting 20 chocolate frogs inside his mouth at the one time, or persuading a previously unattainable girl to go out with him. 

 

That is what really disgusted Lily about James Potter; he looked at girls as objects, not people. On his list of possessions, girlfriends always came in just below his broomstick, and that would _never_ change.

 

Lily had been so busy thinking about Potter that she didn’t even notice she was standing outside the portrait to the dorm. The boy and girl in the picture looked as though they were sleeping, but Lily knew better. The paintings in this castle were too nosy for their own good. 

Lily cleared her throat, and said quietly, “I know you’re awake, stop pretending. Get up and let me in.”�

The two teens continued to feign sleep; Lily’s next words came out in a growl, “Now.”�

The boy jumped up and began straightening his robes while the girl ‘yawned’ behind him. “Pas-?”�

“ _Cum tacent, clamant,_ ”� said Lily, cutting the boy off. 

 

The portrait swung forwards and Lily crawled through it slowly, biting her lip as her back burned. She passed the open bathroom door, and couldn’t bear to look. There was a draught coming in from the corridor on the other side, but Lily continued on, despite her shaking. She walked gingerly up the stairs to her bedroom and when she reached it, Lily collapsed onto her bed, totally exhausted from the night’s events. Before she fell into another troubled sleep, she pointed her wand at the oak door and cast every single locking charm she knew. 

 

It seemed as if Lily’s hopes of this year being her best had been dashed tonight. Her only hope now was that Potter hadn’t changed, and acted like his usual competitive self, taking up the challenge. She hoped he’d prove her wrong. 

 

But what Lily didn’t know, as she buried herself under the blankets, was that that night James Potter _had_ changed.

***

 

James opened one bleary eye, and at once put a hand up to block out the sunlight that was pouring through the windows. After a moment he realised that he was on the couch in the Heads’ common room. He had been lying in a very awkward position, leaving his neck incredibly stiff and sore. 

 

Sleep had not totally left him as he stumbled into the bathroom. Without his glasses on everything was blurred, so he had to squint whilst walking to try and locate the sink. When his eyes came to rest on the bathroom wall James stopped dead. 

 

There was something on the wall which contrasted greatly with the pearly white of the tiles. James closed his eyes and opened them to their fullest extent. Yes, there was no mistaking the deep red hue. 

 

Blood. Evans’s blood. Smeared at the bottom of the wall, exactly where Evans had sat the previous night. Exactly where her back had made contact with the solid tiles.

 

Then the memories of last night came flooding back.

 

He had been hoping that it was just a dream, albeit a very realistic dream, but just a figment of his imagination nonetheless. He wanted to wake up to find Evans as annoyingly perfect as ever and to continue on with his relatively problem-free life. But the smeared blood on the bathroom wall had put an end to that, it wasn’t a dream, it was real.

 

James’s stomach churned as he thought back to what Evans had unknowingly admitted in the trophy room. He couldn’t ignore what she had told him, it wasn’t something James could easily forget.

 

_What should I do? Tell someone? Not a teacher, definitely not._

__

James had enough experience of teachers to know that no matter _how_ much they said you could tell them anything, they lied. This was something you couldn’t even mention to an authority figure, let alone run to them telling tales. And although James was friends with Dumbledore, Evans would surely kill him if he went to the headmaster.

 

_But who then? A Marauder?_

__

James’s three best friends all disliked Evans, but he was the one who had hated her. _Had?_ James wondered. _When did it become past tense? I do hate her…_

 

If James told Sirius, the hyperactive young man would most likely ambush Evans outside a classroom and give her a bear hug. He knew first-hand what it was like to be hated by your family. But from what Sirius had told James of life at 12 Grimmauld Place, he had never been physically harmed by any family member, no matter how much they loathed him.

 

If James told Peter, he wouldn’t get any real advice what to do. Peter couldn’t think for himself, in his mind whatever James said was right and anything else was complete codswallop. In his fifth year, James had loved Peter’s reverence for him, but now it was just creepy. 

 

Telling Remus would be the best option. Remus was always honest, brutally honest at times, but that’s what James needed right now. Remus would know what to do…

 

James washed his face quickly and ran up to his room. He pulled on some clothes, and then after finding his glasses on the coffee table, headed for the Gryffindor common room. James wondered if Evans had got back all right last night, but he’d find out at breakfast. He went through the door with the lion head handle, closing it softly behind him. 

 

Remus was always the first one up, so James sat down in one of the squashy armchairs to wait for him. Looking around the room he noticed that there was still a _Head Boy Potter_ banner still hanging above the portrait hole, the photo of James on the banner was currently messing up his hair.

 

James heard movement from above, hopefully it was Remus. The sound footsteps reached his ears and then, Sirius appeared at the foot of the stairs. He was still dressed in his pyjamas, and was in the process of getting his socks on.

 

James sighed, disappointed, he really needed to talk to Remus.

 

Sirius looked up and grinned, “Prongs! What are you doing up so early? I hope you’re not going ‘head boy’ on me, oh wait, you already have!”� Sirius laughed at his own joke and dropped into an armchair opposite James.

 

“I-uh- wanted to talk to Moony,”� mumbled James, looking at his feet.

 

Sirius clutched his heart and put on a girly voice, “That hurt James. That really hurt. So, what? Do I mean nothing to you? I am just some piece of trash you think you can throw away?”� 

 

“Well, Padfoot,”� came a quiet voice from the stairs, “when you mention it, you _do_ have a trash-like quality,”� Remus Lupin had a thoughtful expression on his face, but after a few seconds, he smiled. He was fully dressed in his school robes with his bag slung over his shoulder.

 

Sirius stood up and still in the same high-pitched voice said, “Well, Moony, you can have him,”� he turned to James, “I’m too good for you,”� before flicking his hair and marching over to the portrait hole. He crawled out, chuckling madly.

 

As Sirius left, James remembered something about last night. Evans told him to prove her wrong and not tell anyone. _Damn, how am I going to get out of that one?_ James thought. 

 

A little voice inside his head spoke; _you could just prove her right and tell Remus._

 

James thought about this, but then came to his senses, _hell no! I’m not letting her win, I’m going to prove her wrong, even if it’s the last thing I do._

__

Remus watched his friend with great amusement, he seemed to be having a mental debate with himself, and the werewolf was curious to know what about.

 

“Prongs? Prongs? Prongs!”�

 

James looked up, “Yeah, what is it Moony?”� he asked distractedly.

 

“Did you want to talk to me about something?”� Remus asked, surveying his friend carefully.

 

“Uh…no, no, Moony, it’s all right, thanks.”� James wasn’t going to tell, he would have to figure out this mess himself. 

 

Remus continued to watch James, something was off. “You’re sure?”� he asked again.

 

“Oh yeah, definite. Coming to breakfast?”� James got up and walked towards the portrait hole. Remus wasn’t satisfied, but he would leave it for now. 

 

He followed James to the exit, and as his friend climbed through the hole, Remus asked, “How’s Evans this morning?”�

 

James’s head collided with the back of the portrait, did Moony know? James knew that werewolf hearing was quite superior to that of a normal human, but he couldn’t have heard them all the way from the trophy room, _could he_?

 

Rubbing his head, James jumped out of the now open portrait hole and into the corridor.

 

“Wh-wh-what are you talking about Moony?”� asked James, failing to hide the worry in his voice.

 

“The itching hex, of course,”� said Remus, now standing beside him, “What else would I be talking about?”�

 

At the words _itching hex_ , James’s face darkened. Evans had already been in excruciating pain, and he had increased it. _God, I am an idiot,_ he thought. He didn’t care for Evans, and he certainly didn’t like her, but he would never wish that kind of pain upon anyone.

 

“Nothing,”� replied James bitterly, walking towards the staircase.

 

Remus ran to catch up, something was definitely wrong, and he was going to find out.


	8. Axis II

PROVING ME WRONG

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

“Nothing,”� replied James bitterly, walking towards the staircase.

 

Remus ran to catch up, something was definitely wrong, and he was going to find out. ____

 

CHAPTER 8

 

_ “Axis II”� _

_ _

_ _

Evans didn’t appear in the Great Hall for breakfast, nor did she come for lunch either. It was dinnertime, and James Potter hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the redhead all day. She wasn’t in any of her classes, James knew this was most unlike her, and as he had expected, the teachers noticed immediately that their star pupil was absent. 

 

James thought back to Transfiguration, which had been the last class of the day, remembering how Professor McGonagall’s head had snapped up halfway down the register when she realized that Evans was missing.

 

 

***

 

 

“Where is Miss Evans?”� she asked in a curious tone of voice, creases becoming visible on her forehead.

 

The class was silent except for the sound of James shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the back of the class.

 

_I don’t know where she is,_ he thought truthfully. _Yes, but you **should** know, _ his mind replied, _if anything has happened to her, it will be **your** fault. You knew she shouldn’t have left alone; she was weak, and upset, an easy target for anyone with a grudge against her…_ James thought hard, _who would hate Evans? Apart from every living person of course…_

__

James was brought back to earth as McGonagall stood up behind her desk, hands pressing down on the wood as she leant forwards to peer over her square framed spectacles at the seventh year class.

 

After a minute she spoke again, firmer this time; “Where is Lily Evans?”� 

 

No one answered. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sirius nudged James and whispered, grinning madly, “Seems as though your hex worked Prongs! I knew we were crazy to think that you’d made a mistake, ha! It’s better than we expected, isn’t it? I never thought it would make her miss class, she’ll be out of that tower by tonight, you wait and see!”� Sirius stretched in his seat and put his hands behind his head, “Worked like a charm,”� he murmured, still grinning.

 

“Yeah,”� replied James in a hoarse voice, as he had hardly spoken all day. He ran a hand distractedly through his black hair, with a grim smile on his face, “like a charm.”�

 

McGonagall was annoyed now, “Are you telling me that no one in this class knows where the Head Girl is? Mr. Potter,”� she shot at James, “when did you last see Miss Evans?”� 

 

“Yesterday, Professor, in Charms,”� he answered smoothly as ever, but his eyes never left the desktop. 

 

“And when you returned to your dormitories, there was no sign of her?”� McGonagall pressed on, “Did you look for her, Potter?”�

 

“No,”� James mumbled, shaking his head.

 

The professor walked around to the front of her desk, arms folded and said, “Why did you not look for her?”�

 

James’s mind went blank, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t think of an excuse. He sat there in silence, staring at his desk. He listened to the clicking of McGonagall’s heels grow louder as she approached the back row.

 

McGonagall stood before James, and said in a low voice, “Why didn’t you look for her James?”�

 

The Head Boy glanced up at the teacher’s face and saw that she was angry, and- _worried?_

 

This was when Sirius decided that enough was enough. He wasn’t going to let his best friend sit there making a fool out of himself, although he _was_ quite enjoying it. He stood up and said in an incredulous tone, “Come on, Professor, you can’t expect James to go running after Evans every time she decides not to turn up for class!”�

 

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot expect of him, Mr Black. Now sit down,”� McGonagall said in an icy tone. With a last cold look at James she walked back up to her desk and continued with the register.

 

For the next forty minutes the seventh year Gryffindors were all wondering what was wrong with James Potter, and where was Lily Evans? They were also wondering why McGonagall was so interested in Lily’s whereabouts, but they reasoned that it was because she was McGonagall’s favourite, and Head Girl.

 

How wrong they were.

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

James came back to the present after getting a very sharp poke in the ribs with-

 

“A fork, Padfoot?”� stated James, raising an eyebrow and turning to his right, “Are you trying to kill me?”�

 

The long-haired boy swallowed a massive amount of food before narrowing his eyes and muttering darkly, “Damn you Potter, you’re just too smart for me.”� 

 

James just stared blankly at his best friend; he had too much on his mind to appreciate Sirius’s strange sense of humour right now.

 

Admitting defeat, Sirius shook his head, smiling, “Pass the salt, you prat.”�

 

James got out his wand, and muttered, “Accio salt,”� without looking where he was pointing it. 

 

Big mistake.

 

Angry shrieks and yells came from the opposite side of the hall as a large metal salt shaker came whizzing through the air towards the Marauders, hitting a few people on the side of the head, and one unfortunate Hufflepuff got a painful smack on the nose. 

 

“What are you playing at?”� came the muffled shout of Gideon Prewett, a 5th year who had his two hands clutched over his nose. He paled when he realised who he was speaking to.

 

James cringed, but his three friends were sitting wheezing beside him, they could barely breathe as they were laughing so much. 

 

Sirius, Remus and Peter stopped laughing however, when James replied.

 

“Uh- s-sorry, ‘bout that Prewett, it was an accident,”� he called back, rubbing his forehead with embarrassment.

 

The fifth year boy was in shock, he even removed his hands from his nose, which was very red and swollen. Gideon’s mouth was hanging open in amazement, and only closed it after getting a nudge from his friend.

 

James turned back to his dinner, bangers and mash, and found that he was no longer hungry. He pushed himself back from the table and stood up, “I going to go and start that Transfiguration homework,”� he said to his friends, not meeting their gaze. 

 

“See you later,”� he said and then left the great hall without waiting for a reply.

 

The three young men sat at the Gryffindor table in stunned silence. After a few minutes had passed, Sirius spoke, “ _What_ the bloody hell just happened?”� He looked to Remus for an answer, but the werewolf was lost in thought, so he turned sharply to Peter.

 

“Did Prongs _apologise_ to a _fifth_ year there now? A _Hufflepuff_ fifth year?”� he asked the watery-eyed boy, looking for reassurance that he wasn’t going mad.

 

The small boy nodded, though he too looked very confused.

 

 

 

 

 

Sirius shook his head, as though trying to clear his mind, and continued, “Did Prongs go red a minute ago? I mean, did he actually _blush_?”�  He said the question slowly and clearly, so there could be no problem with Peter hearing it.

 

Peter nodded again fervently, and Remus inclined his head also.

 

Sirius sat up straight in his seat, his dark eyes glittering. He asked the next question with a mixture of glee, and genuine concern showing on his face. He waited a moment, then said it, 

 

“Did James just _stutter_?”�

 

The question hung in the air for a moment, then Remus answered croakily, “Yeah, yeah he did Padfoot,”� looking up at his friend with a serious expression.

 

Sirius’s brow was furrowed; he was clearly trying hard to get his head around this last fact.

 

Remus lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Peter and Sirius.

 

“Listen,”� he said, “I noticed it this morning, something’s up with James, something big.”�

 

“Well, that’s obvious,”� scoffed Peter, taking a spoonful of treacle tart, “I haven’t seen James stutter since- wait… James has never stuttered!”�

 

“Clap, clap to Mr Genius here,”� said Sirius darkly, looking at him with loathing.

 

Remus rolled his eyes, “Do either of you know why Prongs is acting so strange?”� he asked.

 

“I haven’t got a clue,”� replied Sirius honestly. 

 

“Me neither,”� answered Peter.

 

They were silent for a couple of seconds, until Sirius jumped in his seat, “Moony, this morning, what did Prongs want to talk to you about?”�

 

Remus gave a frustrated sigh, “That’s just it, I don’t know! He was about to tell me when he changed his mind and said it wasn’t important anymore.”� 

 

The werewolf slammed his fist down on the table, probably with a bit more force than intended.

 

He winced at the noise he made, “Sorry,”� he said meekly, “don’t know my own strength.”�

 

“But I do know this,”� Remus looked at his two friends with deadly seriousness, “Yesterday he missed the start of lunch because he said he was meeting some Ravenclaw in the Astronomy Tower, but all the sixth and seventh year Ravenclaw girls were here from the beginning of lunch, and we know that James wouldn’t go out without anyone below sixth year.

 He seemed really annoyed about something when turned up late though, like he had a fight with someone.”�

 

Peter looked unconvinced, “But who would have an argument with James- ?”�

 

“Think, Wormtail,”� said Remus, cutting him off.

 

“Evans,”� answered Sirius, his eyes darkening.

 

 

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Padfoot,”� said Remus hastily, “Evans might not have anything to do with James’s behaviour.”�

 

Sirius gave Remus a sceptical look, “Yeah, Moony, and I’m a Death Eater. What are you saying anyway, are you trying to protect her or something?”� The black-haired boy stared at him accusingly.

 

“Sirius, calm down,”� said Remus quietly, “I’m just thinking this through.”�

 

Now it was Sirius’s turn to slam his fist on the table, making the cutlery rattle, “Calm down? I just watched my best friend _apologise_ to someone, a fifth year _Hufflepuff_ no less! I just listened to my best friend _stutter_ like some _nobody._ But he’s not a _nobody_ , he’s quidditch captain, he’s Head Boy…he’s a Marauder for Christ’s sake! And Marauder’s do not stutter!”�

 

Peter raised his eyebrows at Sirius and said, “ _O_ kay-.”�

 

“Shut up, Peter,”� Sirius spat, and he looked to Remus, “Moony, we need to find out what’s wrong with James, and Evans is our best bet.”� Sirius waited for him to agree.

 

“She _is_ our best bet, for the minute,”� Remus began, “but I can’t go investigating tonight, I have to do that Transfiguration homework, like James.”� He stood up, noticing that most people had already left.

 

The two other young men stood up as well, Sirius said, “If you believe that James is doing homework right now, you’re slower than I thought Moony. Homework is the last thing on his mind at the moment, trust me.”�

 

The three made their way back to the Gryffindor Common room in silence, but after Peter had scrambled through the portrait hole, Remus held Sirius back.

 

He spoke in a low voice, “I just wanted to give James the benefit of the doubt, you know.”�

 

Sirius studied his friend for a moment, then replied, “I know Moony, James deserves the benefit of the doubt.”�

 

As Sirius crawled through the hole he continued speaking, “Evans now, she’s a different story.”�

 

 

***

 

 

Lily had woken at daybreak, drenched in sweat and aching from head to foot. She had slept on her stomach the entire night, not very comfortable. She forgot _why_ she had stayed in this position when she rolled over onto her back; however, the blinding pain jogged her memory quite effectively. 

 

She tried to sit up, but found that she couldn’t. Her body was completely drained of energy and all Lily wanted to do now was go back to sleep, or pass out, whichever happened quicker. Before the darkness swallowed her again, Lily had one thought; _Potter._

 

Twelve hours later, the redhead regained consciousness. She now had enough strength to get out of bed and change her clothes. She had gotten a cold and a headache because she had gone to bed with wet hair, but that was definitely the least of her worries as Lily tried to remove the shirt from her back. The blood had dried, fusing the green cotton to her skin; even the slightest tug caused agony. 

 

 

 

 

 

In the end, she had no other choice. Closing her eyes and biting her lip, Lily got the shirt’s collar and wrenched it up over her head. 

 

She screamed with the pain.

 

Angry tears sprung from her eyes as she put on her robes and got her schoolbag. Lily undid all the locking charms on her door and she walked downstairs to the common room. She looked at the clock above the fireplace, and swore loudly. It was _dinnertime_. She kicked her bag across the room and slumped down on the ground.

 

_Why me?_ She thought, while fiercely wiping her tears away with her hand. Before Lily could think of a reason, someone else’s voice answered in her head.

 

_Because you’re just like your good-for-nothing mother,_ came her father’s slur, _thinking you’re smarter than me, better than me, when you’re not, and not knowing when to keep your mouth shut. You only listen to me when I use my hands, when I make you listen, you’re just like **her**._

__

Another voice entered Lily’s mind, it was shrill and spiteful; _because you are a freak, **Lily** , that’s why! You, the abnormal child, tore our family apart, and now you’re paying for it._

__

_Because you’re a filthy little mudblood who shouldn’t even be at this school. You’re not even a proper witch,_ Bellatrix Black’s cold tone pounded in Lily’s ears.

 

_Evans, just face it; you are a nobody,_ said the gleeful voice of James Potter, _you have no friends, definitely no boyfriend, and your family hate you._ __

 

Lily knew this was all true, she believed it after so many years of denying.

 

_Mother_

__

_Freak_

__

_Mudblood_

__

_Nobody_

 

She covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the voices that were growing louder.

 

“Stop it,”� she breathed, although she knew that this wouldn’t help.

 

“Stop it,”� she whispered again, closing her eyes and trying to concentrate on something else.

 

She repeated the two words over and over again, and a few minutes later, there was silence.

 

Lily raised her head and stared into the flames of the fire. She felt her body relax, her heart rate slowed, and then-

 

The portrait hole opened, and James Potter emerged looking a mess; his school shirt was ripped, his right hand was bleeding, and his glasses were shattered.

 

 

 

 

Lily’s eyes widened at the sight of him, _what happened?_

__

Before she could say anything, before she could even think, Potter lifted a shaking hand and pointed at her, Lily cowered on the floor.

 

He was clearly out of breath; he looked at her with mingled fury _and_ fear.

 

“You. Evans. Stay the _hell_ away from me.”�

 

He turned and stamped up the stairs to his room. At the top, he kicked his door open and called down in a dangerous voice, 

 

“I mean it, Evans. _Stay_. _Away_.”�

 

Lily flinched as she heard the bedroom door slam shut, and as she sat there, began to shiver.

 

Potter had always hated her, and she had always hated him.

 

 

But why then, why did it feel _different_ this time?

 

 

Right then Lily made a new vow, _to never find out._


	9. Blood

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

Potter had always hated her, and she had always hated him.

 

But why then, why did it feel _different_ this time?

 

Right then Lily made a new vow, _to never find out._ ____

 

CHAPTER 9

 

_ “ **Blood** ”� _

_ _

“Occulus reparo.”�

 

James Potter closed his eyes as shards of glass flew back into the frames of his glasses, mending them. He was leaning against his bedroom door, panting and drenched with sweat.

 

He held his breath for a moment, listening for any sound coming from the common room below. There was silence. 

__

_I think I scared her,_ James thought savagely, _good._

 

The room was dimly lit, and the candles caused sinister shadows to flicker on the stone walls. He ran his fingers through his hair, but pulled his hand away when he realised it was glistening with blood. 

 

James was reminded of something a certain Slytherin had said to him, after he had left dinner early that day. 

 

 

_“We’re the same, you and me, Potter. Both pure in blood, both wealthy, both powerful. We’re cut from the same cloth.”�_

 

The messy-haired boy slid down to the floor, holding his right hand in front of his eyes.  James stretched his fingers so the light shone onto the deep red hue that was now dribbling down his wrist and lower arm. 

 

As he sat there, James wondered if the blood flowing through his veins really _was_ the same as the blood flowing through the veins of- _Severus Snape._

 

_Most people think so,_ James thought, _just because it’s ‘pure.’_

 

But did _James_ think that he and Snape were the same?

 

He knew the answer immediately.

 

_Hell no._

 

Another question popped into James’s head a moment later. 

 

Did he think that he was _better_ than others _because_ of his blood?

 

Did he believe he was better than people of Muggle heritage, people like- _Evans_?

 

James also knew the answer to this question straightaway. 

 

“ _No_.”�

__

He murmured it with a bitter tone, feeling sick that anyone could ever think otherwise.

 

_But people **do** think otherwise, _James admitted.

 

This thought reminded James of something else that Snape had said to him just over an hour ago, when he had been walking in a haze along the charms corridor. 

 

Why was he walking along in a haze, you ask? 

 

Well, to be blunt; it’s not everyday that James Potter apologises to someone, flushes, _and_ stutters, all in quick succession. In fact, that has _never_ happened before in James’s six years at Hogwarts. It’s no wonder why some people were shocked. 

 

Even hours later, James was still cringing at his behaviour in the Great Hall.

 

He had almost forgotten what Snape had said to him. No, wait, that’s a lie. James knew he hadn’t needed reminding of what Snape had said; if he was honest…

 

He didn’t think he would _ever_ forget it.

 

 

**-F-L-A-S-H-B-A-C-K-**

 

_Snape continued in his usual silky tone, “It’s disgusting to see mudbloods in high-ranking ministry positions nowadays, becoming healers, aurors, professors and-,”� with a sly glance in James’s direction he added,_

__

_“Head girls.”�_

__

_James’s jaw clenched but he kept his expression blank. What was Snape getting at? Surely he didn’t think James was into that Pureblood mania after six years? Did Snape think that’s why he hated Evans?_

__

_Snape continued on, hoping to get a reaction from the Gryffindor._

__

_“I’m sure it sickens you to your stomach to have to share power with that **muggle** , and having to sleep in the same tower with her as well. If it were me I’d have complained to the Board of Governors as soon as I’d found out.”�_

__

_James’s eyes flashed, and Severus smirked._

__

_“But- maybe you **like** having her around…,”� he said slowly and deliberately, as though thinking it through, “for- other purposes?”� he added delicately. _

__

_James took off his glasses, and started to wipe them with the sleeve of his robes; seemingly unfazed by Snape’s insinuation, but actually focusing all of his energy on ignoring the Slytherin’s taunts._

__

_“Yes, that’s it. I won’t deny that she’s attractive, but even so, I would never sink so low as to sleep with a mudblood.”�_

__

_At this James’s glasses shattered in his hands; slivers burying themselves deep into the skin, slicing his flesh._

__

_Was Snape accusing him of carrying on with Evans? **Lily** Evans?_

__

_‘There only is one muggleborn, Head girl called Evans you know,”� said the intelligent part of his brain._

__

_Is Snape mad? Does he have a death wish?_

__

_He must if he’s saying that to my face, James thought seriously._

__

_James closed his fist tighter around the shards of glass and metal wiring, hiding his injury from the other boy’s view._

__

_James turned to face Snape, who had a malicious grin on his face._

__

_“But it seems, Potter, that is the one area we are different.”� He took a step towards James, trying to discern some sign that he was getting close to something, but the Gryffindor’s expression was unreadable._

__

_“You’re talking bollocks, **Snivellus** , and you know it,”� said James through gritted teeth, trying very hard to keep his face impassive._

__

_“Maybe you like it filthy, Potter, eh?”� proceeded Snape, thoroughly enjoying himself now._

__

_James could feel a pounding in his ears, and started to crack his knuckles just to have something to do with his hands._

__

_“And you have to admit, Evans is as filthy as they co-”�_

__

_James’s fist had smashed into the Slytherin’s jaw before he could finish the sentence._

__

_The force of the blow knocked him backwards into the wall with a sickening crunch._

__

_James grabbed Snape by the collar of his robes and threw him up against the wall a second time._

__

_“Who’s the **real** filth in this school, Snape?”� James spat, as he pinned Snape against the stone._

__

_Snape then pulled out his wand with lightning speed, and muttered a curse under his breath. His collar was ripped by the spell, as well as James’s robes, releasing Snape from James’s grasp, so he landed in a heap on the floor._

__

_The messy haired boy stood above the Slytherin, towering with rage, his blood boiling._

__

_After James made no move to continue the assault, Snape closed his eyes and began to laugh in a horrible, sardonic way. It was quite unnerving for the Gryffindor to watch the pale faced boy laughing like this, while blood was trickling down his forehead with increasing speed._

__

_As Snape’s chuckle rang in James’s ears, he realised that he wasn’t actually that angry at Snape for saying he had bedded Evans. Sure, it pissed him off that Snape could even think he fancied Evans, but he wasn’t angry enough to start duelling, muggle-style._

_All James knew was that somewhere between drawing back his fist, and actually punching Snape; his motives had changed. Drastically._

__

_James started to sprint towards his common room more confused than ever. He just wanted to put as much distance between himself and Snape as possible, before he did any more damage and got into serious trouble._

__

__

_When he was alone, Snape heaved himself off the ground and brushed off his robes. He strolled away from the Charms Corridor holding his head unusually high, too high for someone who just got the crap kicked out of them._

__

_But maybe the reason why Snape was in such a good mood was this:_

__

_As he walked down towards the dungeons with a smirk on his face, Severus Snape couldn’t help thinking,_

__

_“Bull’s-eye.”�_

__

__

__

_James however, was feeling slightly less pleased with himself. Running to his dorm, various thoughts raced through his mind, too many to keep track of._

__

_Why did I **apologise** to someone today?_

__

_Why am I punching Snape in the face over practically **nothing**?_

__

_Why did he make me **so** angry?_

__

_Why were Remus and Sirius looking at me **strangely**?_

__

_Why did McGonagall want to know if I looked for **her** or not?_

__

_Why did I **have** to open that bathroom door last night?_

__

_Why did I follow **her**?_

__

_Why do I **care**?_

__

_But before he arrived at the portrait leading to his dorm, James had reached a conclusion._

__

__

_Evans_

__

_Its Evans fault I’m acting different, making a fool out of myself, stuttering for Merlin’s sake!  I want to go back to the way I was._

__

_She’s to blame, she’s ruined everything, and if I never see her again it’ll be too soon._

__

_As soon as he clambered through the portrait hole, however, he came face to face with the last person he wanted to see._

__

_He had been so angry at her… and afraid of her at the same time. Afraid of what she had done to him._

__

_“You. Evans. Stay the hell away from me.”�_

__

_He turned and stamped up the stairs to his room. At the top, he kicked his door open and called down in a dangerous voice,_

__

_“I mean it, Evans. Stay. Away.”�_

__

**-E-N-D- O-F- F-L-A-S-H-B-A-C-K-**

__

As James sat on the floor of his room, holding his bloody hands in front of him, he remembered the look of terror on Evans’s face when he had burst in and shouted at her.

 

_First step back to normality_ , he thought, smiling grimly. _I’ll be back to the real James Potter in no time._

__

James went to bed that night with the image of her face still fixed in his head.

 

It only occurred to James a week after the incident on the charms corridor that Snape could have easily cut his own throat with that spell he used to release himself. 

It unsettled James to know that Snape hadn’t even hesitated before performing the near fatal curse… it unsettled James to know Snape would rather kill himself than take a beating from him.

__

In the following weeks James avoided coming into contact with _her_ as much as possible, it was difficult though, with Prefect meetings and Hogsmeade visits to organise. James was trying so hard to ignore Evans’s existence, that he didn’t notice her leaving the Great Hall early one morning in the last week of September. 

 

Nor did he realise a boy with long black hair, getting up from his seat opposite James and following her route out of the hall moments later, a menacing expression on his handsome face.

__

__

 

__

__


	10. Dogging Her Steps

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

In the following weeks James avoided coming into contact with her as much as possible, it was difficult though, with Prefect meetings and Hogsmeade visits to organise. James was trying so hard to ignore Evans’s existence, that he didn’t notice her leaving the Great Hall early one morning in the last week of September. 

__

_Nor did he realise a boy with long black hair, getting up from his seat opposite James and following her route out of the hall moments later, a menacing expression on his handsome face._ ____

 

CHAPTER 10

 

_ “ **Dogging her steps** ”� _

_ _

_ _

“Evans, oi! Evans!”�

 

Lily’s hand immediately reached for her wand as she whipped around on the wet grass to see who had followed her outside. 

 

She was stunned to find one Sirius Black standing behind her; hands in his pockets, his black hair falling elegantly around his face, on which there was a friendly grin that didn’t completely reach his dark brown eyes.

 

Lily didn’t know what to do, what to say. The words ‘ _bugger off’_ came to mind but she was keen to avoid trouble with the Marauders these days.  So she settled for, “Er…umm…”�

 

Black raised his eyebrows in amusement behind the curtain of his dark hair.

 

_Don’t raise your eyebrows at me, Black,_ thought Lily, snapping out of her reverie.

 

“What do you want, Black?”� asked Lily in a calm voice, though it was laced with venom.

 

Sirius’s smile widened at this, his white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. In an airy tone he replied, “Can’t I have a little chat with the Head Girl? Merlin knows I talk to the _Head Boy_ enough- I just thought I should balance it out, there’s plenty of me to go around you know. Maybe we could get to know each other a little bit, it’ll be… _nice_.”� 

 

Now it was Lily’s turn to raise her eyebrows; _get to know each other a little bit?_   She didn’t know what Black was up to, but was sure it could be nothing good. Lily didn’t want to make trouble with the Marauders, especially Sirius, as she knew he could turn nasty, oh yes, he could turn very nasty indeed.  Reluctantly, she agreed.

 

“Alright, Black,”� she said in a sceptical voice, grip tightening around the wand concealed in the pocket of her robes, “I’ll play along, for now. What is it you wanted to tal- ”�

 

“Fantastic!”� exclaimed Sirius, grabbing Lily’s entire arm and dragging her off towards the quidditch pitch.

 

When they reached the stadium, Sirius let go of Lily who immediately began nursing her shoulder, having a bad feeling that it had just come out of its socket. 

 

She raised her eyes to watch the black haired boy bounding up the steps to the highest spectators’ bench. He whistled down to her, so she followed rather cautiously, climbing the rickety wooden stairs with building fear.

 

At the top, she found Black with his feet propped up on the seat in front and his hands behind his head, bathed in golden rays of the sun. His eyes were closed, so Lily sat as far away from him as possible without being on a different bench. 

 

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the seat beneath her and stared at her feet. She had a _slight_ fear of heights, which explained why she didn’t like quidditch very much. 

 

The minutes passed in silence and Black had not moved a muscle. He had fallen asleep. As Lily continued to throw glares in his direction she noticed that they were completely out of sight of the castle, and no one knew where she was.

 

_This is wrong, I shouldn’t have come here,_ she thought anxiously. _God, I am an idiot. Black has probably set this up to see how long I’ll wait here. Git._

__

Lily stood up and was about to take her first step down when,

 

“Going somewhere, _Lily_?”� came the voice of Sirius Black, who although appeared to be having an early morning nap, had clearly been awake the entire time.

 

‘ _Lily_?’ mouthed the girl herself, a bemused expression on her face. Something was _definitely_ wrong.

 

Sirius opened one eye, and squinting in the sunlight, he registered the look on the redhead’s face. He closed his eye again and spoke in an indifferent tone, “That _is_ your name, isn’t it?”�

 

“Yes,”� replied Lily slowly, narrowing her eyes. 

 

Then Black sat bolt upright in his seat and turning to her he said in a cheery voice, “So, do you like quidditch, _Lily_?”�

 

Lily sat back down on the bench because she was afraid of toppling down the steps in shock. “It’s alright, I suppose. I don’t really like heights much.”�

 

“ _Really_?”� exclaimed Black, that sickly grin back on his face, he was apparently pleased about something. He glanced down to the ground, far below them, and then back up to Lily’s paling face.

 

He fixed his face into an expression of sympathy, but inside, he was smirking.

 

“How about quidditch _players_? Do you like _them_ as much?”� he continued.

 

“What?”� asked Lily, who had been concentrating hard on not looking down, “What did you say?”�

 

Sirius clicked his tongue quietly in annoyance, and repeated the question.

 

“Oh, no,”� she answered, “I don’t follow the league, I’m a muggleborn, you know. We don’t have the WWN at- ”� she stopped as the words caught in her throat, “at home.”�

 

“Lily, Lily, Lily,”� said Sirius, shaking his head in mild exasperation, “I mean quidditch players at _Hogwarts_. So, do you like anyone?”�

 

Black saying her name was unsettling enough, but repeating it over and over again unnecessarily alarmed her. What was he trying to do?

 

“I don’t really follow quidditch in school either, so I haven’t seen many people play,”� she responded.

 

“Not even anyone in Gryffindor?”� continued Sirius.

 

“Well, I saw the final last year between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. We won by four hundred points, not even counting the sni- ”�

 

“Well, I know all the lads from both teams, would any of them know you, _Lily_?”� he asked, waiting for her to comprehend.

 

Something in Lily’s brain clicked as she listened to Black’s question.

 

So that’s what this is all about, boyfriends. He just wants to make fun of me, bastard. 

__

She tried to keep from hexing Black as she replied in a voice of forced calm, “No, Black, I don’t think any of them would know me.”�

 

“And why is that, _Lily_?  I’m sure there is at least one quidditch player you like, in Gryffindor perhaps?”�

 

“Nope, no one,”� she replied shortly

 

Sirius was annoyed now, “Ah come on now, Lily. There’s definitely one Gryffindor whose head you’ve turned.”�

 

“What? Who?”� 

 

“Don’t play dumb, _Lily_. I need to know how you’re doing it.”�

 

Lily didn’t answer because she was clueless as to what Black was on about. 

 

“Tell me _Lily…_ Well?”� asked Sirius, getting impatient. 

 

Lily was angry now, “I have no memory of deliberately setting out to turn anybody’s head, or ruin their life for that matter! In fact, if anyone blames me for their bad performance on the pitch, my jinxes will make sitting on a broomstick very uncomfortable indeed.”�

 

Sirius sat in stunned silence and had an incredulous expression on his face, clearly not believing her.

 

“ _Lily,_ I think you’re fibbing,”� he said in a singsong voice. 

 

Lily shot him an icy glare, and he moved back a bit.

 

“I’m leaving it for now, but that doesn’t mean I believe you, _Lily_.”�

 

The way he said her name, in that saccharine tone, made Lily shiver. She had had enough of this.

 

“Shut up,”� she answered quietly, preparing to curse him.

 

“Why _Lily_?”�

 

“Stop saying that,”� snapped Lily, her eyes flashing dangerously.

 

“Stop saying what, _Lily_?”� said Sirius, fighting to retain an expression of innocence.

 

“ _That_ ,”� she retorted.

 

“What _Lily_?”� cried Sirius who was trying very hard not to laugh.

 

“My _name_ you idiot!”� she yelled, “Stop saying it, now!”�

 

Sirius held up his hands in mock defence, “Merlin, Lil- I mean, _Evans_ , don’t you think you’re getting worked up over noth-.”�

 

“It’s not nothing, you git,”� spat Lily, pulling out her wand and pointing it at Black’s heart, “You know full well what you were doing, so I recommend you shut up and leave now before I hex you!”�

 

Sirius’ eyes darkened and he smirked at her. He stood up and stretched languidly, before putting his hands in his pockets again and walking slowly down the wooden steps.

 

Halfway down, Sirius stopped and turned back to face Lily.

 

“You’d better watch out walking back up to the castle on your own, Evans,”� he called, with no hint of a smirk, just a deadly serious expression on his face, “I hear there’s a huge black, monster of a dog that’s roaming the grounds.”�

 

Lily rolled her eyes and shouted back, “Worry about yourself, Black! I’ll be fine, all dogs love me!”�

 

Sirius flinched, as though offended by her words. He replied more quietly with cutting tones, though Lily still heard him, “I assure you, this one _doesn’t_.”�

 

Confused by this remark, Lily started, “How-?”�

 

Sirius cut her off, “Just watch where you’re going, don’t be sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong, this dog has a habit of turning up… _unexpectedly_.”� 

 

Sirius continued down the steps in silence until he reached the bottom. With his back to her, he yelled up, “Remember, _Lily_ ,”� there was no hint of sweetness in the way he said her name this time, no, he spat the word as though spitting poison from his mouth, “if you _are_ involved with something or _someone_ that you shouldn’t be, stop it. Stop it _now_. Or else you’re going to get bitten…”�

 

Lily began, getting a twisting feeling in her stomach, “I seriously doubt that a _dog_ is going to know what I’m doi-”� 

 

He brought a hand to his forehead with a pained expression on his face, “ ** _Don’t_** argue with me, Evans. It’s a fact.”�

 

Sirius strolled across the pitch, whistling happily to himself as he headed back towards the castle, _and hopefully_ , he thought, _back to a best friend I recognise._

 

As soon as Black was out of sight, Lily lowered her wand and slumped against the back of the bench. 

 

She was shaking, and it wasn’t because of the altitude either. Although she hadn’t shown it, Black’s words had terrified her, there couldn’t _possibly_ be a real dog roaming the grounds, she knew it was a threat; Lily seemed to be getting a lot of those recently…

 

A couple of weeks ago Bellatrix Black had cornered Lily after a prefects’ meeting one night. The Slytherin girl had said something that made Lily truly afraid of her for the first time in seven years:

 

***

 

“Things are changing around here Mudblood,”� she said in her low raspy voice while drumming her fingers on her left forearm, “ and I don’t mean just in this muggle-lover’s paradise that you call a school.”�

__

_She closed her hooded eyes and sighing, smiled her ‘I’m a lunatic and I know it’ smile before continuing, “ No, its bigger than that, **much** bigger. It’s going to affect every living thing in this world…and the next.”�_

__

_Her eyes snapped open and she spoke in a soft, blissful tone, “He will find you, Mudblood, wherever you are, no matter **who** tries to protect you, He will find you, and once He does, you’ll wish you had never been born.”�_

__

_Seeing the look of scepticism on Lily’s face, Bellatrix added, “Oh, don’t be thinking He’s going to swoop down on you now, Mudblood.  No, not now… maybe next week,”� she smirked, “maybe not; maybe next month,”� she laughed loudly, “but- maybe not;”� she turned away from Lily, “maybe next year- then again,”� she whipped around and slammed her palms down on the desk, “maybe not.”�_

__

_Her face lost all expression as she ran her long nails into the wood on the desk, scoring it and she seemed to be talking more to herself now than Lily, “It doesn’t matter if you’re a shrivelled old hag when He gets you, He will. Just know this Mudblood, when He does get you…I’ll be there.”�_

__

_Bellatrix then crossed the room and held the door open for Lily in mock politeness, when Lily made no move to leave, Bellatrix chuckled darkly, “Have it your way then,”� and slammed the door behind her._

 

***

 

Lily had been in a state since the 2nd of September, worrying that whatever Potter was so angry about had made him forget their deal. 

 

_Well, it wasn’t an actual **deal**_ , Lily had thought, _it was more of a challenge, and Potter never refuses a challenge._

__

Then a voice whispered in Lily’s ear, _but he **also** never turns up during dinner looking like he’s been in a brawl, perhaps he’s changed his mind about your challenge. Perhaps he knows that divulging your secret will hurt you more than he ever could…_

 

Since this realisation, 3 weeks ago today, Lily had been sure that any day now, James Potter was going to tell someone, and destroy what little normality she had left.

 

Pulling herself back to the present, Lily decided she had to worry about one thing at a time, so…

 

“How the _bloody hell_ am I going to get down from here?”�


	11. Knowledge

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

_Since this realisation, 3 weeks ago today, Lily had been sure that any day now, James Potter was going to tell someone, and destroy what little normality she had left._

_Pulling herself back to the present, Lily decided she had to worry about one thing at a time, so…_

_“How the bloody hell am I going to get down from here?”�_ ____

 

CHAPTER 11

 

_ “ **Knowledge** ”� _

_ _

James Potter looked up from his toast and scanned the length of the Gryffindor table.

 

    “Where’s…?”� he began, making Remus pale beside him and Peter choke on his kippers. James’s eyes came to rest on the empty space opposite him and he frowned. After a moment, his face relaxed and he stretched across the table to grab a jar from beside the abandoned bowl of cereal.

 

“The marmalade,”� James murmured, raising it up a little to show his friends that he had found it. Dropping his head, he returned to his food, and proceeded to spread liberal amounts of the lemon jelly onto his toast.

 

Remus released a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding and Peter gave a little giggle of relief. They gave each other a look that said, “ _Merlin’s beard, that was close._ ”� The two boys had thought for a minute that James was going to enquire about Sirius’s absence, and neither of them had managed to think up a convincing excuse.

 

“So, Prongs, when’s your next training session?”� 

 

“Tonight. We need to train all together with the new beater, now that we’ve lost Tonks.”� 

 

Remus glanced up to the top of the table where there sat a third year girl looking very ill indeed. She currently had sickly pale skin, a bulbous runny nose and wispy brown hair. That is to say, _currently._

 

“Are you all right?”� a little red haired boy next to her asked anxiously. “You should go to the Hospital Wing. I would take you but I don’t know where it is yet.”� 

 

Tonks scrunched up her face and a second later her skin was rosy, her hair blonde and curly, and her button nose was perfectly dry. The first year’s knife and fork fell onto the table with a clatter. He stared at her with his mouth slightly agape. 

 

“Yes, I’m fine thanks, Bill,”� replied Tonks looking downcast, “I’ve got Transfiguration first thing, that’s all. I was hoping to skive off, but McGonagall isn’t that thick.”�

 

She turned quickly to look at Remus, her nose now the size of a small turnip and ears that rivalled those of an elephant. She said jokingly, “Wotcher, Remus! You wouldn’t be _eavesdropping_ by any chance?”� she flapped her elephantine ears, hitting Bill in this face (“ _Oops! Sorry Bill_!”�)  “Look what you’ve done Lupin, you nosy parker!”�  She wiggled her huge nose and laughed at her reflection in the golden jug of pumpkin juice.

 

Chuckling, Remus answered, “The Head Boy and I were just discussing your replacement on the squad.”� 

 

At this, Tonks’s face turned sour and with another scrunch of her features someone else was now sitting in her seat: a young man of about nineteen, with platinum blonde hair that was slicked back, steely grey eyes and a pale complexion. 

 

 “Professor,”� she drawled, making the people around her snort with amusement into their breakfast, “It is completely unjust to permit a metamorphmagus to play quidditch. It could match its appearance to a member of an opposing team and sabotage their play. It is giving Gryffindor an unfair advantage, and you must remove _it_ from the squad. If you do not, I shall write to my _father_.”� 

With one last sneer at those around her, she changed her appearance again: back to rosy, curly and blonde. 

“Ugh!”� she exclaimed with disgust, some people still applauding her performance, “I _hate_ that Lucius Malfoy! I’m so glad he’s left. He was just hacked off with me because I hit him in the face with my club last year and knocked out his front teeth.”� 

 

There was a roar of laughter from the Gryffindors at this. 

 

“What?”� asked Tonks defensively, “It was an _accident,_ and they _did_ grow back. It’s not like I _meant_ to knock his teeth out…”� 

 

Amongst her chortling housemates she took a sip of pumpkin juice, casting annoyed looks, seemingly offended. A few seconds passed, and with a sheepish smile she finished, “I was aiming for his _nose_.”�

 

The fresh bout of hysterics this induced was drowned out by the sound of flapping wings as hundreds of owls soared through the rafters, carrying the morning post. 

 

James’s own owl landed gracefully onto his shoulder with a letter clutched in his beak. 

 

“Hey Loki,”� spoke James quietly, a small smile appearing on his face. He removed the owl of his burden and offered him a slice of his toast, which Loki accepted gratefully. James opened the envelope and read the piece of parchment within it.

 

 

James,

 

As you know, it is almost October and we haven’t received any letters yet concerning your misbehaviour at school. I believe that’s a first. Your mother and I are very proud of you, but also a bit concerned. We did, of course, expect your Head Boy duties to make you mature somewhat, but not this much. Is everything all right, son?

 Your mother seems to think that something has happened at school to make you act differently. She’s gotten this silly idea into her head that it’s all because of a girl. Is it? I’ve told her it’s just ‘growing up’, but she won’t listen to me, never does.

 

Congratulations again on a good start to the year, try to keep it up, but if you don’t, at least we know you’re back to normal. 

 

Love Mum and Dad

 

P.S. Good luck with quidditch, how’s the beater situation fairing? 

 

P.P.S. Your mother says to tell this ‘mystery lady’ to continue doing whatever it is she’s doing, because it’s working wonders.

 

 

James finished reading. _Merlin_ , he thought, _Mum and Dad aren’t even here and they think I’m acting funny. So much for a ‘mystery lady’ though,_ he gave a snort, causing Remus to look up from his Daily Prophet and catch the look of resentment on James’s face.

 

Tell her to continue doing whatever it is she’s doing? he thought with extreme sarcasm. Oh yeah, that’ll be easy… ‘Sorry, erm… Evans? If it’s not too much to ask, could you please continue to get battered when you go home, because my mother says it’s “working wonders!”�’

 

Somewhere far away, a bell rang, signalling the beginning of classes. “You coming James? Our bags are still in the common room, remember?”� spoke Remus. 

James stood up, and after bidding goodbye to Loki he left the Great Hall with Remus and Peter, a piece of parchment clenched in his fist.

 

Only after the portrait had closed behind him and Remus, did James ask, “Where’s Peter gone?”�

 

Remus shrugged his shoulders, not too concerned. Peter had started to disappear to places unknown during break and lunchtimes, returning a few minutes later. At the weekends he could vanish for hours at a time. He had told them a week ago that it was for ‘remedial charms’, but James had been so distant lately that he probably didn’t hear it. 

James picked up two schoolbags from in front of the fireplace, throwing one to Remus. He caught it deftly, even though it was packed full of books.

 

After putting the straps around his shoulders, James slumped into the nearest armchair; it was grey and not very old, but already worn-out, with stuffing coming out in places. Remus knew it wasn’t the books in James’s bag that was weighing him down. Ignoring his urge to go on to Defence Against the Dark Arts, (as they were going to be studying but disappointingly not practicing the Patronus charm today) Remus chose a sofa opposite James and sat down.

 

They sat in silence, Remus trying to catch James’s eye, James trying to avoid it. 

 

Remus spoke first. “A knut for your thoughts?”� he smiled.

 

There came no reply from the black-haired young man.

 

“Go on then, a sickle?”� he was trying to make James laugh, even if it meant he was laughing _at_ him. But that was usually Sirius’s job, cheering James up. It suited Sirius fine because…well, James never really needed cheering up. Before now, that is.

 

James turned his head away from Remus to stare into the dying embers.

 

“I’m going against my better judgement here but- a galleon? A galleon for your thoughts, James Potter? I’m not even sure I want to know what your thinking anymore, if it’s going to cost me that much. You could be thinking about…butterflies for all I-”�

 

A swift look from James ceased Remus’s babbling and assured him that he was most definitely _not_ thinking about butterflies.

 

_If Sirius finds out it isn’t Evans behind this, then at least I can tell him to count out butterflies as well,_ Remus thought angrily, mentally slapping himself.

 

He looked over at James, but his gaze had already reverted back to the fireplace.

 

“James, listen. We know there’s something you’re not telling us, me, Peter and Sirius. We don’t know what’s wrong, except that it’s seriously messed you up. I thought you would have learnt from me that keeping secrets doesn’t work. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you three hadn’t realised what I was. I would probably be dead.”� James’s jaw clenched.

“But unlike me, we can’t find out by looking through some books, you have to tell us what’s wrong.”� Remus paused. “I haven’t told the others this… but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,”� James gave Remus a sharp, searching look. 

 

Meeting James’s gaze, he continued evenly, “I think it’s someone else.”�

 

This took James aback. He didn’t want Remus know that he was right, so he masked his alarm with an expression of mild incredulity. 

 

“What makes you think that, Moony?”�

 

_This will take a while_ , thought Remus, his hopes of getting to class at a decent time out the window at this point.

 

He sighed, and then spoke in a measured tone, “The way I see it is; you were fine on our first day back; having a laugh, hexing Sniv-Snape on the train, getting into a fight with Evans, everything was as it should be. Later on, you went to the party, got a bit drunk, snogged Dorcas Meadows and only went to breakfast next morning because you wanted to see how the itching curse was working on Evans. Got there, Evans didn’t seem to be itching at all, she did glare at us a few times, but that is to be expected since, well…she hates us. Anyway, you were a bit disappointed but hoped to see results by the end of the day. So in charms; after Evans compared Padfoot’s brain to the size of an Every Flavour Bean, we knew something was wrong. I mean- she was still acting normal. Your spell hadn’t worked, first time ever I think. You brushed it off, and went to meet some Ravenclaw in the astronomy tower, missed the start of dinner and- just out of interest, who was it?”�

 

James racked his brains, “Oh, it was the Irish one, Moran, brilliant chaser.”�

 

Remus had seen Moran at dinner that day, but he let it go. James would just smooth talk his way out of it; there wasn’t really much point in arguing.

 

Raising his eyebrows ever so slightly, Remus said, “ _Right_. Well, after dinner, you went to your common room, the rest of us came here, and we didn’t see you until the Tuesday morning. Here’s where it gets tricky; Tuesday morning, you arrive in the Great Hall looking like the living dead, you don’t speak, you don’t eat. Prongs, Snape dropped a cauldron on his foot in potions and you didn’t even laugh. Padfoot was howling, so was I. But…you didn’t even notice. In transfiguration, you told McGonagall that you hadn’t since Evans since Monday, and she asked if you went to look for her, stupid question really. But when you said ‘no’, McGonagall went strange and gave you an odd look. At lunch, you apologise to Gideon Prewett, go red with embarrassment, and _stutter_ , all in the space of about thirty seconds. Merlin, even Wormtail knew something was amiss. You leave lunch early, to do ‘transfiguration’ homework, and…when thinking about it now, I said you were acting strange before you left the Great Hall,”� he shook his head, frowning, “but it was _nothing_ …compared to what you were like when we saw you later.”�

 

He sighed again, and continued in a business-like tone, “So that means that something must have happened between six o’clock on the Monday evening and 8 o’clock on Tuesday morning. And something else happened after you left the Great Hall on Tuesday afternoon, ‘cause it just put you over the edge.”� He leant forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. James was slouched in the chair, staring resolutely at the floor. 

 

“Now, how does this show that there’s someone else involved? Simply, because I know you James. If you had a problem as big as this one seems, you would tell one of us. You may think that by keeping quiet you’re protecting this person, but I know different. Nothing good can come of this, look what it’s done to you, and it’ll get worse, I know.”�

 

James continued to ignore him, but Remus knew he was listening. He wanted to give James some time to think about all that he had said, and so he took out a very thick textbook, _The Dark Forces: An Advanced Guide to Self-Protection_ ; perhaps he could read up on the Patronus charm instead, even though he already knew the passage off by heart.

 

They sat like that for almost twenty minutes, Remus; re-reading chapter eighteen for the fifth time, turning a page every so often, and James; staring at the floor, lost in thought.

 

 

“Do you ever wish there were some things you didn’t know, Remus?”�

 

 

Remus’s head snapped up to see a once in a lifetime sight: James Potter, head in hands, looking as thought the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and he was about to crumble beneath it. 

 

At the moment he was about to respond, Sirius Black burst into the common room with an insane grin on his face. He bounced over to the fireplace, picked up his schoolbag, and only then spotted Remus with the huge book open in his lap.

 

“ _Moony_! What are you doing here?”�

 

“P-”� 

 

What he meant to say was, “ _Prongs_ is here too,”� but Sirius cut him off.

 

“I’ve done it! It’s sorted!”� he exclaimed, jumping onto the sofa beside Remus.

 

Sirius sat back and sighed happily; ignoring the elbows in the ribs he kept getting from Remus and the werewolf’s mutterings of, “Shut _up_ , you idiot, he’s _here_.”�

 

He surveyed the room, passionately humming the Puddlemere United song ‘ _Beat back those Bludgers Boys, and Chuck that Quaffle Over Here.’_

__

When he arrived at ‘ _chuck_ ’ however, the note caught in his throat when he realised what, or to be exact, _who,_ was sitting in the mouldy grey chair with the stuffing coming out.

 

James Potter lifted his head from his hands and in a suspicious tone asked, 

 

“Done _what_?”�

 

 

 

 

 

Remus closed the textbook, ignoring the impulse to beat Sirius around the head with it.


	12. Blood, Sweat and Tears

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

When he arrived at ‘ _chuck_ ’ however, the note caught in his throat when he realised what, or to be exact, _who,_ was sitting in the mouldy grey chair with the stuffing coming out.

 

James Potter lifted his head from his hands and in a suspicious tone asked, 

 

“Done _what_?”�

 

Remus closed the textbook, ignoring the impulse to beat Sirius around the head with it.

____

 

CHAPTER 12

 

_ “ **Blood, Sweat and Tears.** ”� _

_ _

_ _

Lily Evans had been sitting in the top seats of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch for the best part of an hour, trying to think of a way to get down. The steps were not an option, as merely looking over the edge of the first stair made Lily lose her balance. 

 

No. Steps were out.

 

Although her flying skills were pretty pathetic, she had actually considered summoning a broomstick. Aside from the fact that the only thing between her and the ground was a wooden stick and a bundle of twigs, (“very reassuring!”� huffed a fed-up Lily) the broom shed was locked during class time. And even so, she couldn’t just yell, “Accio broom!”� or she would find hundreds of ready-made javelins zooming through the air towards her from within the castle itself. One broom was dangerous enough, thank you very much. She wasn’t even sure if she could _catch_ the broom if she did summon it, let alone dodge a hundred others.

 

No. She needed to summon a specific broom. And she only knew of one.

 

 James Potter’s Cleansweep. 

 

He had gotten it for his 17th birthday at the end of their sixth year. Now, Lily wasn’t remotely interested in broomsticks or in James Potter’s capability on them, (as if!) but it’s hard _not_ to notice when he rolls into the great hall during dinner, carrying it over his shoulder, (positioned at such an angle so that you could not miss the gilt inscription ‘ _Cleansweep 2_ ’) chest puffed out, striding to his seat like some conquering hero returning from battle.

 

She remembered muttering dryly to herself, “Clap, clap Potter. You unwrapped it yourself. Order of Merlin First class for you.”�

 

Lily wouldn’t be surprised if she summoned Potter’s broom and it arrived with twenty-five hexes on it and trailing an anchor of some sort. God, he really _loved_ that broom. If she didn’t know any better she would think he was insane. However, she did know better and realised it was just Potter being Potter. She wondered vaguely if his mother and father were as barmy as he was. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were holed up in St. Mungo’s. 

 

Lily instantly regretted that; it was an awful thought to have. 

 

Anyway, borrowing (“stealing!”� cackled her inner-voice with delight) the most prized possession of a lunatic who was _already_ pissed off at you for some unknown reason would be an incredibly stupid thing to do. He would kill her if he found out- wait, _first_ he would proclaim the state of Lily’s home-life in front of the entire school and _then_ he would kill her. But if it got to that stage she’d probably do the job herself. It also wouldn’t help her situation to have to worry about _another_ person who was out for her blood. They were piling up quite nicely these days.

 

She supposed that levitation could be an option, though not a very appealing one. She decided to do a practice run on herself, just moving out of her seat and sideways along to the end of the row. Directing her wand at her chest she cried, “Wingardium leviosa!”�

 

A tingling sensation spread through her body as she hovered a few centimetres above the bench. With an almost imperceptible flick of her wand, she rose to a foot above her seat. Lily’s fear melted away as she took in the stunning Scottish landscape that surrounded her, the imposing Hogwarts castle set in the distance. It was perfectly lovely to be sitting there in mid-air, knowing that if you fall, it’s only a short drop onto your seat. 

 

Lily couldn’t resist the urge to cross her legs and hum (“Ohmmmmmm”�) like she had seen the Buddhist monks do in a film once. Chortling quietly, she opened her eyes. Giving her wand a tiny wave to the left, she slowly sent herself over towards the commentator’s bench. When she was satisfied that she could control her own movement, Lily waved her wand to the right, returning to her seat. 

 

She landed on the wooden bench with a _plonk_ , but immediately leapt up again as she realised she had sat _on_ something.

 

Looking round she let out an, “Oh!”� of surprise, and bending down a little, said in an uncertain but definitely friendly voice, “Er- hello, I’m Lily.”�

 

 

***

 

 

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Sirius smiled as though he had not heard clearly, “Sorry Prongs, what did you say?”�

 

The grin was not returned. With a stony expression on his face, James repeated, “What have you done?”� The question hung in the air, as though James thought the word ‘ _now_ ’ should be added onto the end.

_ _

Remus jumped in before Sirius could open his mouth, “He’s found a way to get the ash winder eggs for Halloween, to make the plates move about the ta-”�

 

“ _How_?”� James directed at Sirius.

 

After catching Remus’s discreet headshake, which informed him that he was _not_ to tell James the truth, Sirius began shakily, “W-w-well…you see the- the thing is Jam- Prongs,”� James stared dubiously, “I’ve found this lad - well _man_ really… who can- can get us the eggs. Like Moony said,”� he finished rather lamely.

 

“Does this man have a name?”� asked James in tone, which made it clear that he didn’t believe that this man truly existed.

 

Sirius bit his lip as he tried to think; “Er- his name’s Mundungus Fletcher, yeah, but I call him Dung for short. He’s a bit dodgy but-”� 

 

“I _know_ who Mundungus Fletcher is, Padfoot. Where did you meet him at?”�

 

“Hog’s Head.”�

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going?”�

 

“I thought you wouldn’t want to go. Thought you wouldn’t want to risk losing your badge in the first month.”�

 

James snorted and raised an eyebrow. “If I had gone then we could have used the Cloak. What’s all this rubbish about losing my badge? Since when have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself?”�

 

“Look who’s talking,”� retorted Sirius jokingly, trying to steer away from the subject.

 

James smiled, but it didn’t reach his hazel eyes. Sirius was lying. Badly. 

 

He sat back in his chair, appearing content with the response from Sirius, who was now rummaging through his pockets for something.

 

“Are you coming to watch the quidditch practice tonight, Moony?”� asked James casually, keeping his eyes fixed on Sirius.

 

“I always do,”� he replied with a grin. 

 

Sirius then crawled underneath the table.

“What’re you looking for?”�

 

The sound of Sirius’s muffled voice came from somewhere below them, “Um…I think I left a packet of stink pellets under here last week, for safe-keeping.”�

 

“Safe-keeping?”� asked Remus, the corners of his mouth twitching.

 

“So, how much does Dung want?”� James called down.

 

They heard a _clunk_ , followed by a few colourful swearwords. 

 

Returning from beneath the table and rubbing the back of his head, Sirius said distractedly, “For what? Dung? _Who_?”�

 

“I knew it,”� said James resentfully. “You’re bloody lying.”�

 

Sirius froze, realising his mistake. 

 

James waited for an explanation, but it didn’t come.

 

James said in a weary but bitter tone of voice, “Come and find me when you’ve stopped talking _crap_ , Sirius.”�

 

He left his seat and strode towards the portrait hole, dragging his bag on the floor behind him. He crawled through it without a word, leaving the two boys in the common room.

 

Sirius shot the sandy-haired boy a contemptuous look, saying, “Good going Moony. Look what’s happened. I should have just told him the bleedin’ truth!”�

 

Sirius jumped off the sofa and jogged after James, speaking self-assuredly over his shoulder to Remus, “Wait and see. He’ll be pleased when I tell him- he’ll thank me!”�

 

Out in the corridor, James was nearing the corner when Sirius fell out of the portrait hole, landing on the flagstones with a hard _thump_. He picked himself up off the floor and bounded after the Head Boy, yelling, “Prongs! Prongs _wait_!”� James walked on faster than before, ignoring his best friend, “James! _POTTER_! Will you _wait_ for Merlin’s sake? It was Evans! It was _Evans_ , Prongs!”�

 

James stopped dead in his tracks.

 

“Thank you!”� Sirius heaved an exasperated sigh. “I thought I’d have to chase you the whole way around the school. Anyway,”� he steadied himself, “Moony and me think she’s the cause of all this! We think it’s _her_ that’s messed up your head! After you put that itching hex on her she must have hit you with a confundus charm or something, ‘cause…you’ve totally changed Prongs, your personality’s done a fuckin’ U-turn if you really want to know!”� James’s shoulders visibly tensed.

 

 “And I don’t like the new James one bloody bit, so at breakfast I went to tell Evans to…to fix you. Brought her up to the quidditch pitch, sat in the stands and tried to find out how she’d done it. I even called her _Lily_ ,”� James’s grip on the leather schoolbag strap tightened. 

“She played dumb though, acted as though she didn’t have a clue- but _I_ know she was lying. She knew _bloody rightly_ what I was on about. She screamed at me to leave her alone, so I did, but not before warning her that she’ll get a nasty dog bite if she does anything else.”�

Sirius looked over to Remus for support, giving him two thumbs up. At this Remus gave a groan and put his hands up to cover his face. He removed his hands and moved over to the open window, gazing longingly out of it. As if he thought that his chances of making it to his 17th birthday were better if he jumped out of the window, rather than if he stayed in here with a crazy James and an idiotic Sirius who didn’t know when to keep his fat mouth shut.

Hearing sounds from behind him; Sirius looked over his shoulder and saw the Fat Lady and her friend Violet the witch huddled together in the centre of her gilded picture frame. The pair was whispering excitedly while shooting furtive glances at the back of James’s head. They had obviously been listening. 

Sirius cleared his throat loudly and their heads snapped up to face him, the little painted witch dropping her broomstick in surprise.

 

This reminded Sirius of something.

 

“Oh yeah,”� he said, now laughing between gasps, “I brought Evans up to the top seats down at the pitch and when we got up she told me…she told me that- that she was afraid of heights!”� Sirius let out a bark of laughter and leaned against the wall, unaware that he was alone in his chuckling. “She’s probably still stuck up there!”�

 

Then the bell rang, signalling the end of first class (Remus gave another groan) and by the time it had stopped, James had turned around, and Sirius was quiet.

 

James Potter’s eyes were fixed on the ground, afraid that if he looked at either of his friends’ faces he would kill them.

 

His voice trembled with fury as he spoke, “You’re my best friends, but you can be sly _bastards_ when you want to be.”�

 

Sirius’s face lit up unthinkingly and the beginnings of a smile appeared in the corners of his mouth-

 

James kicked his bag up from the floor into the air and caught onto the strap. Hauling it over his shoulder he spat, “And no _Black_ , that was not a fucking compliment.”�

 

It took every ounce of strength James possessed to walk around the corner and away from the two boys he called his friends. Even though his fists were telling him to run back and pound both of them into equally bloody pulps.

 

After about ten minutes James slowed from his furious stride down to an irritable saunter. When he noticed that he was in the cavernous entrance hall, James stopped altogether. He pulled from his bag a blank piece of parchment. The Head Boy didn’t really feel like going to class now, so he needed to check where McGonagall was, so she wouldn’t find him wandering the corridors.

 

With a tap of his wand, and a muttering of, “ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ ,”� glistening lines of black ink began to appear on the surface of the parchment, fanning out in every direction like a spider’s web.

 

He saw that the dot labelled _Minerva McGonagall_ , was currently teaching a class of first years. His eyes wandered to the History of Magic classroom, where he was supposed to be now. He watched as two dots entered the room and took seats at the back of the class, going unnoticed by Professor Binns. There were only two empty places now, his own and Evans’s.

 

James knew that Sirius (“the devious prick,”� thought James) had probably scared her, but a trivial thing such as a death threat wouldn’t stop Lily Evans coming to class.

 Maybe the prick _was_ right and she was still stuck in her seat, too afraid to move. He looked over to the quidditch pitch and saw that she was running down the steps of the stands. She seemed to have lost her fear of heights.

 

Well, of course he didn’t actually see that she was running _per se_ , because right now she was just a back dot. 

 

James suddenly remembered Wormtail suggesting, one late night during their sixth year, when the map had been created, that they use miniscule bodies rather than dots to represent people, because it would be much more original and informative.

 

As the Marauders were notorious for their originality, this idea had been met with great interest from the rest of them; earning Peter a few slaps on the back, and a “Good one, Wormtail,”� from James himself. 

 

The high regard that Peter had then been held in lasted a spectacular fifteen minutes, coming to an end when Sirius looked up from reading a map on the floor, a look of utter revulsion on his face.

 

“What if, I dunno, we see someone doing something… er- _private_?”�

 

James remembered laughing uproariously at this with Peter and Remus. He remembered asking Sirius what was so bad about seeing people doing ‘private’ things.

 

He had replied shortly, “What if it’s Snivellus?”�

 

The three of them continued chuckling but with disgusted expressions to match Sirius’s.

 

“Or _us_?”�

 

That shut them up.

 

Ergo, they decided to just use plain, boring, uninformative dots. 

 

 

James _knew_ that Lily Evans was running down the steps of the quidditch stands right now because of how fast the dot was moving.

__

And it was moving _extremely_ fast.

 

Her dot even skipped a few millimetres once, so she must have taken the steps five or six at a time.

__

_Hang on,_ James thought, _who can jump five steps in one go? On the way down? Who can even jump two steps on the way down?_

__

_She’s not running,_ he decided after the dot skipped another few millimetres.

__

_Well how is she going so fast then?_ he asked himself, more than a little irked that Evans was currently outstripping his prized Cleansweep and he had no idea how she was doing it.

__

_She doesn’t even own a bloody broomstick! To be going that fast she would have to be…_

__

The sheer horror of his next thought seemed to put the world on ‘ **pause** ’, like it was waiting for James to make a decision; to accept or deny that the thought was true, and happening at this very moment.

 

He made his choice, and somewhere, someone pressed ‘ **play.** ’

 

 

James Potter started running towards the quidditch pitch.

 

 

Even though his legs felt like jelly, and his stomach like a lead weight dragging him down, James burst out of the vast oak doors into the fading autumn sunlight. And with the bag and map streaming behind him, like a man possessed; he tore down the stone steps, across the crisp grass, along the gravel path, and headed for the stadium. 

 

Between breaths he desperately whispered this mantra, 

 

“The map made a mistake - the map is wrong. Evans is in class, Evans is in class.”� 

 

His lungs seemed to be filled with fluid rather than oxygen five minutes later, as he hurtled past the changing rooms, ditching his possessions at the door. 

 

When he made it onto the silent pitch he skidded to a halt. 

 

James frantically searched the lowest row of stands. Then felt his stomach lurch as he became sickeningly aware of a black bundle of robes at the bottom of the Northeast stand.

 

He sprinted over, each heavy footfall echoing in the deserted stadium. 

 

Halfway across the pitch, when he had gotten close enough to catch a glimpse of the fiery red hair, his knees gave way as realisation set in. 

 

Like a ghost from another time; a time when James had never bothered to go and turn off the light in the Heads bathroom on the 3rd of September, the voice of a sixth year Remus Lupin resonated in James’s head, the words seeming to come from the quidditch pitch itself.

 

“ _This map will never be wrong_.”�

 

The denim of his jeans burned his skin as he slid forward a few feet on the dry earth, but the pain didn’t register in his head. Acknowledging it would only slow him down. James scrambled to his feet and tripping in his haste, he rushed to her side. 

 

There she was. 

 

_My mystery lady._

 

Lily Evans’s broken body was sprawled upside-down across three rows, her head hanging limp over the lowest step. She had fallen from the top, where Sirius had taken her just over an hour ago, to the bottom row. 

 

James felt himself pale, and his chest constrict.

 

He reached up and placed two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. Gripping his right arm tightly with his free hand, to steady it, because he was trembling. 

 

_Calm down,_ he ordered himself, _focus._

 

The shaking subsided, and for the first time in his life, James prayed.

 

His own heart skipped a beat a second later when he felt her pulse.

 

_Yes._

 

He opened his mouth to murmur some words of gratitude to God or whoever it was that listened, but all that came out was a ragged sigh of semi-relief. 

 

She was alive. 

 

Subconsciously, James remembered how he had counted the number of steps back in his first year. He had been in a state of euphoria for the first few weeks, ecstatic that he had finally arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  He was home. 

 

It was seven years ago this month that he had tried to commit to memory everything he could about the Hogwarts quidditch pitch. He had known then that one day he would fly here, and he would give Hogwarts something it had _never_ seen before. He didn’t know then that he would be the only Hogwarts student to ever win Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award, but for that first year he had been content with simply getting to know the pitch. The home of his future victories (first-year James didn’t plan on losing any matches.) He had memorised every smell, and sound, even every taste…and step.

 

James wished now that he had not learnt the number off by heart, as he recalled it with disturbing clarity.

 

Two hundred and eighty three.

 

283

 

You can break your ankle by falling two steps.

 

Multiply the damage by one hundred and forty, and you can try to imagine what James Potter saw before him.

 

Can you? 

 

Maybe. Maybe not.

 

Add to that some aching muscles, skinned knees, and the overwhelming sense of fear that surged through James’s body like an electric current:

 

It’s enough to make anyone sick. 

 

James was. 

 

He fell forwards onto his hands and knees and retched violently, emptying the contents of his stomach (toast, butter, and a copious amount of Chivers lemon shredless) onto the dusty earth of his beloved quidditch pitch. The acrid stench of bile lingered in the air, along with the disgusting feeling of responsibility that had been following him around for the past few weeks. Later on, James wished he hadn’t vomited right beside Evans, he didn’t know why, he just wished he had turned away from her or something.

 

When he sat up again his head was reeling, a jumble of terrible thoughts pounding in his ears. He pushed them away. 

 

_They can’t help me now._

__

His black hair was matted with sweat, sticking to his forehead. His glasses had slipped down to the edge of his nose; he pushed them back up. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt and brushed the dirt from his hands.

 

James knew he would have to leave her in a minute to go and get someone, but first he had to check her over, make a list of her injuries.

 

Taking a few deep breaths, he turned around to face her again. He shuddered as he was hit with another wave of nausea, but steadied himself.

 

_Concentrate._

 

Imagining he was Moony, just rhyming off the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, he started making the list. 

 

_One._

 

It seemed as though she had tried to stop herself from falling by hooking her leg around a bench, though she couldn’t hold it for long. Her leg had more than likely snapped from her own body weight, causing the bone to pierce through the flesh, protruding through her knee and leaving a bleeding gash. Her socks were soaked through with blood. If James tried hard he could pretend they were meant to be red, for Gryffindor. He had to admit the facts; Hogwarts school socks were grey. 

 

James knew he was no Healer, and that he couldn’t risk using magic on her in this condition. So, wrenching off his red and gold tie, James wrapped it around the wound on her knee and knotted it securely to stop the flow of blood. His own hands were now covered in it.

 

_Two._

 

James tentatively lifted up her jumper, and through her white shirt he could see numerous bruises. Broken ribs. He suppressed a grimace and lowered the jumper again. 

 

_Three._

__

Her face was the worst; she was barely recognisable. There were dark bruises all over her face, and on top of that hundreds of scratches from the wood chippings that littered the steps and a large swelling on her forehead that was almost black. He noticed one particular cut in the corner of her left eye. A drop of blood had run from there to her chin, leaving a crimson track across her sallow cheek.

 

_Like a tear._

__

At this thought James tore his gaze away from her; this was too hard. 

He couldn’t do this. He needed someone else. Anyone would do, just not him. 

He… he couldn’t. 

 

Hagrid could.

 

He got to his feet, and giving the unconscious Lily a shaky smile, dashed out of the stadium.

 

He ran so fast that when he arrived at Hagrid’s hut he couldn’t slow himself down in time and ended up slamming into the weathered oak door. He grunted on impact, but immediately started pounding on the door, calling for Hagrid. 

 

   “Hagrid! Hagrid -come on! Come on quick, hurry! It’s me- James! She- she’s on the pitch, c-covered in blood- Hagrid!”�

 

No answer.

 

His voice took on a tone of quiet desperation when he next spoke.

 

Leaning his forehead against the door, James said, “Please Hagrid, come on. I c-can’t look after her by myself — I d-don’t know what to- to do.”�

 

But all he heard from inside the hut were the whines of Hagrid’s new puppy, Fang.

 

Hagrid wasn’t there.

 

The prickling sensation James had been feeling in the corners of his eyes stopped and his vision blurred. He blinked once, and was angry when he felt tears spilling onto his cheeks.

 

They streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt and grime from the pitch. He wiped them roughly away with the back of his hand. 

 

_Crying won’t do Evans any good._

 

“Please. Come on.”�

 

James closed his eyes, and swallowed, trying to think what to do. He was so tired, and afraid, and hurt, that he didn’t think he would make it up to school if he tried to run. Maybe he could break into the hut and floo up to the sch-

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of boys shouting orders to each other, was it lunchtime already? 

 

He gave a jolt when he realised where the shouts were coming from.

 

He gasped, “Lily!”� before shoving himself away from the door, and with a spurt of newfound energy, sprinted towards the stadium.

 

As he got closer, James thought he recognised some of the voices. 

 

Slytherins. 

 

He pulled out his wand, preparing to stupefy the whole of Slytherin house if any of them had so much as touched her, but when he reached the changing rooms, he stopped.

 

James saw seven green-cloaked figures (the Slytherin quidditch team) gathered at the bottom of the Northeast stand. Presumably they had arrived down to have a lunchtime practice and found Lily there in the stands. One of them had probably hopped on his broom and flew back up to school to get help. 

 

James wished he had thought of summoning his broom, he would have gotten here a lot faster; he could have caught her before she hit the bottom. 

 

There was an eerie silence as tiny Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey emerged from within the group of Slytherins, ashen-faced, levitating Lily’s body between them. 

 

James didn’t know why he was still standing there. He didn’t know what was stopping him from running after Flitwick and Pomfrey. 

 

He just didn’t.

 

The Slytherins didn’t follow the two teachers; James had expected them to laugh or make a joke about Lily, but no one did. Surprisingly, no one found it funny that a muggleborn had nearly died, and if they did they were keeping it to themselves.

 

He supposed laughing about stuff like that is easier when they’re safe inside their dungeon. But seeing it right there in front them was a different story altogether.

 

They didn’t seem to be in the mood for practice now, so picking up their brooms and with bowed heads, they sloped off towards the changing rooms.

 

Right where James was standing.

 

After hastily grabbing his bag and map, he stole inside the Gryffindor changing room. Closing the door gently behind him, he whispered, “Colloportus,”� to lock it.

 

Once safe inside the dimly lit room, James collapsed onto one of the benches. 

 

Exhaustion had finally set in. 

 

Tapping his wand to the map, he murmured drowsily, “ _Mischief managed_.”�  

 

By the time the parchment had gone blank; James was sleeping fitfully, and it had slipped from his loose grip to rest on the gritty tiled floor, a crimson smear where he had held it.

 

 While he was asleep, James had a dream. He dreamt that he was back on the quidditch pitch, alongside the unconscious Evans. Suddenly she was sitting bolt upright, and squealing with laughter at the sight of him crouched over on his hands and knees throwing up. It had all been a trick. 

Then Sirius was beside her on the step, his arm draped across Evans’s shoulders, and he was dressed like a house-elf. James tried to ask him what was going on, and why was he wearing that old sheet like a toga. But all that Sirius would say was, “Lily, Lily, Lily.”� 

After that the two of them disappeared, only to be replaced by an irate Remus, who was shouting at James for not knowing the twelve uses for dragon’s blood and began beating him over the head with that huge book he had been reading earlier.

__

_Thump_

__

“Hey, cut it out.”�

__

_Thump_

__

“Moony, stop it.”�

 

_Thump_

__

James opened one bleary eye, ready to take a swipe at Remus, but realised that he was alone in the changing room, and someone was banging on the door.

 

The banging stopped, and he heard a familiar voice mutter, “Alohamora.”�

 

The lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal a thoroughly irritated Remus Lupin, a large book clutched in one hand and his wand in the other, and what appeared to be the entire Gryffindor quidditch team piled up behind him.

 

“Come on in then and wait,”� he said glumly, gesturing to them to follow.

 

The six players pushed and shoved one another in through the doorway, seeming anxious to get away from the pitch. Once inside some began a discussion about last week’s Harpies-Wanderers match, some swapped chocolate frog cards, and others did a bit of last-minute homework. 

 

This was all carried in an unnaturally subdued manner.

 

No one had noticed James lying on the bench yet, and he wondered groggily if they were all blind. He forced himself up into a sitting position, and went to rub the sleep out of his eyes when he noticed the blood on his hands.

 

Her blood.

 

_My mystery lady._

 

Then it all came rushing back.

 

With a mournful sigh that finally alerted everyone to his presence, he leaned forward, resting his head on his knees, and gasped for air.

 

Images began to flash before his eyes like some horrible slideshow.

 

The bundle of robes at the bottom of the Northeast stand.

 

A glimpse of fiery red hair.

 

This morning’s breakfast coming back up.

 

Bone piercing through skin.

 

The broken ribs.

 

A scarlet teardrop.

 

Hagrid’s hut.

 

The Slytherins.

 

In the changing room.

 

And darkness. 

 

When it ended he was struggling to breathe, James reached up to pull off his tie but found it wasn’t there. Sitting up straight again he realised he was shaking. He tried to calm himself like before but this time it didn’t work.

 

James scanned the room for Remus’s face, and when he found him, croaked miserably, “I-I didn’t know what to d-do, Remus, th-there was no one there but me,”� he held out his red-stained hands, “There was s-so much blood…so much-”�

 

Without breaking eye contact: Remus turned his head to the team, and sharply said, “Wait outside.”� 

 

The six of them obeyed, filing out of the room quickly, but each stared at James before passing through the door. 

 

He could see the worry in their eyes, the fear too…and the suspicion. 

 

As soon as the door had closed, Remus was across the room and kneeling on the floor in front of James.

 

“James, the whole school’s been looking for you since this morning. Something awful has happened,”� with a meaningful look at his friend he continued, “but it seems you already know.”� 

 

Remus had just withdrawn a large bar of chocolate from an inside pocket of his robes when the changing room door opened again.

 

“I thought I told you to _wait_ out-”�

 

It was Sirius, looking a bit worse for wear.

 

“Oh, Padfoot, it’s you. Close the door wou-”�

 

Before anyone realised what was happening, James had leapt out of his seat, right at Sirius. After driving him back through the open doorway and onto the ground, he started punching every bit of his body he could.

 

The quidditch team looked on, frozen in terror. Was this really happening? Was it some sort of sick joke the Marauders were playing? Remus Lupin didn’t seem to think it was very funny as he tried in vain to restrain their team captain.

 

They had never seen James Potter lose his temper like this before, but whatever his best friend had done to seriously piss him off like he was now, they knew…

 

Sirius didn’t stand a chance.


	13. Fall From Grace

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

They had never seen James Potter lose his temper like this before, but whatever his best friend had done to seriously piss him off like he was now, they knew…

 

Sirius didn’t stand a chance. ____

 

CHAPTER 13

 

_ “ Fall from grace.”� _

_ _

“Never- in all my years- have I seen…such- such reckless behaviour!”�

 

It was getting dark on the quidditch pitch now, and the stars were beginning to shine like diamonds against the inky black sky. But James Potter and Sirius Black could not see the sky or stars, as they were currently examining the scuffmarks on their shoes. It was definitely more appealing than the other option; raising their heads to face Professor McGonagall, who was bearing down upon them like an angry rhinoceros. 

 

The Gryffindor Head of House had gone to the changing rooms to tell the team that, in light of recent events, practice was to be cancelled. She arrived less than a minute after James had tackled Sirius to the ground, and upon finding the two boys brawling, cast the full body bind curse on them both. She ordered the quidditch team back to the castle and after having a few harsh words with one Remus Lupin, who had attempted to linger, sent him off as well. 

 

McGonagall levitated the two stiff bodies of James Potter and Sirius Black out onto the quidditch pitch itself, and dropped them carelessly onto the hard earth. Muffled groans came from behind their sealed lips, and with a reluctant flick of her wand, she removed the curse.

 

James and Sirius got gingerly to their feet. Sirius shooting looks of confused anger at his best friend, and pinching the end of his nose to stop the blood already gushing down onto his chin. He was trying to catch his eye, but James turned away and began massaging his bruised knuckles. 

 

They turned to look at McGonagall, and were met with a glare so cold that they felt their insides freeze. 

 

“Explanation. _Now._ ”� she spoke, her voice quivering with rage. 

 

James and Sirius remained silent, but hung their heads out of politeness.

 

“No explanation? Potter, where have you been all day?”�

 

A muscle in James’s jaw twitched as he thought about the answer, and he felt Sirius’s gaze shift to look at him. 

 

A thousand possible excuses whirled around inside his head that was still fuzzy from sleep, each one too quick for James to grasp onto, like snitches. 

 

But there was one that he could catch, but would not. He would _not_ catch that menacing black snitch that loomed beside him, straying far from the mass of glittering gold. 

 

The _truth_.

 

The one that was moving so sluggishly that it seemed it _wanted_ to be caught, which made it harder for James to ignore. For he knew that as soon as his bloody fingers closed around it, expecting to feel the cool, smooth surface of metal, James would realise that it was not a snitch, but a bludger that was just pretending. And no matter how hard he tried, it would be impossible to let go of. 

 

James imagined the spectators laughing uproariously as he got dragged around in the air by the bludger stuck to his hand.

 

Somewhere beyond this unsettling daydream, McGonagall started on Sirius, shaking James from his reverie.

 

“Black! _You’ve_ been missing since lunchtime, your whereabouts?”�

 

No answer.

 

“You’re both extremely quiet now! Why just a minute ago you were shouting at each other like barbarians! A muggle duel! Never- in all my years, have I seen…such- such reckless behaviour! And from Gryffindors!”�

 

She continued like this for the next fifteen minutes, her already thick Scottish accent becoming more and more pronounced as her tirade went on.

 

She stopped however, when the blood from Sirius’s nose starting dripping onto the ground, speaking curtly she said, “Fifty points each from Gryffindor, and three weeks of detention.”�

She paused and heaving a sigh, said, “You two know better than most what is happening in our world today, what is happening within our very castle walls. And you _should_ also know that our only chance of survival is to unite against it.”�

 

After this she stared at them both for a long time.

“Go see Madam Pomfrey, Black,”� she muttered.

 

With one last look at James, Sirius turned and stalked off towards the castle.

 

James swallowed and looked at his hands, bruised and encrusted with blood. 

Some of it was Sirius’s, but most of it was Lily’s.

 

McGonagall peered at James over her square-framed spectacles as he tried to rub the dried blood off with the sleeve of his jumper.

 

“Potter, since you won’t tell me where you were today I will have to make my own assumptions. The fact that you’re covered in blood, _dried_ blood, suggests that it is not Mr. Black’s,”� she looked James in the eye, “Whoever’s blood it is, and however it got on your hands and clothes, is of no importance to me.”� 

 

Seeing his expression lighten she continued quickly;

 “It is out of my hands now, Potter, the _Headmaster_ will take it from here,”� James’s heart plummeted, “He is in London on-er… business at the moment, but be sure that when he returns he will want to see you. And I daresay,”� she looked uneasily at his bloody hands again, “some… ministry officials may wish to meet with you too. Now go.”�

 

James nodded silently and walked to the changing rooms to collect the map and his bag. By the time he got back onto the pitch, McGonagall had already left, and he was alone again. 

 

His eyes strayed to the bottom of the Northeast stand, and he shivered, wrapping his robes tighter around himself. Shaking his head, James pushed up his sleeve and checked his watch; it was almost eleven o’clock. He hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder, and walked out of the stadium, forcing himself to look anywhere but back.

 

Everything was quiet inside the castle; not a whisper could be heard from the paintings, nor a gleeful cackle from Peeves on one of his nighttime exploits. This all went unnoticed by James, as he walked disconsolately through the deserted corridors, finally stopping after what seemed like a lifetime.

 

He looked up wearily; expecting to see the painted boy and girl feigning sleep as usual, and have to ‘wake them up’ so he could say the password. But instead he saw two worn panelled doors. There were chips and bumps all along the middle of them, as though they had been pushed open forcefully. 

James swore under his breath, realising his feet had led him to the wrong place. In fact, they had led him to the last place on earth he wanted to be. Rather than walking in the opposite direction as quickly as possible, James pulled open a door, and was greeted by the dim glow of candlelight coupled with the foul smell of Skele-grow. 

 

Even though he would probably regret this later; James left his bag and map in the corridor and entered, closing the door with the sign saying, _Hospital Wing_ , behind him.

 

The light was coming from Madam Pomfrey’s office, the door of which was ajar. He looked in, and before he could catch sight of the Hogwarts matron, a gruff voice said, “She’s with Prof. Root getting herbs for- for…”�

 

James’s expression was stony when he turned around to see Sirius sitting on the edge of a bed, holding what seemed like an entire roll of toilet paper up to his bloody nose. He gestured lamely with his free hand to the bed at the end of the wing, the one with the curtains drawn. 

 

“For…y’know.”�

 

James glanced down at the end bed, and felt his chest constrict. 

 

Forcing back the waves of anger, and nausea and exhaustion, he steadied himself and walked towards his friend.

__

“I thought I broke your jaw,”� said James indifferently.

 

 “You did,”� he said, with more than a trace of resentment, “Pomfrey fixed it before she left, told me to wait here.”� 

 

James clicked his tongue.

 

Sirius knew that if this had happened a month previous, he could have said something to the effect of, ‘It’s only Evans,’ and that would be that, all would be forgiven. But now, he wasn’t so sure. 

 

In the most sombre tone he had ever used in his life, Sirius said, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, James, I’m sorry. I just thought I’d scare her a little; get her to leave you alone. And I _swear_ I didn’t know she had a fear of heights until I got her up there, when I left her she was fine. Didn’t think twice that she might have a problem getting- getting down…”�

 

Sirius stopped, realising that he didn’t know what else to say. He pushed the dark curtain of hair away from his face and looked down at his feet 

 

“You believe me, James. Right?”� he said in an unsure voice, raising his eyes slightly to look at him. “I just wanted my best friend back, the old Pr- ”�

 

_I can’t listen to this,_ James thought.

 

He strode over, and after grabbing Sirius by the arm, dragged him up to Lily’s bed.

 

Pushing him toward the curtain, James spoke harshly, “Shut up about this ‘old James’ shit, Sirius!”� 

James spread his arms wide, “I’m here now with you, you’ve got your best friend back, even though I never even left you in the first place! Is this what you wanted, is this what you fucking WANTED?!”� He gave the nearest iron bedstead a violent kick, causing the contents of its bedside cabinet to rattle. He ran a hand through his messy hair, which was now sticking together in great clumps because of the mud and sweat from earlier in the day. And now blood. 

 

“I said sorry, what else can I do?”� asked Sirius honestly.

 

 “You said _sorry_? Bollocks, Sirius! How can you think that an apology will make things better?”�

 

A second later, a look of realisation passed over the Head Boy’s face.

 

Faintly, “You haven’t even seen her yet, have you?”� It wasn’t a question.

 

Sirius averted his eyes. 

 

“I heard, that she-er… was quite bruised,”� he replied in a hollow voice.

 

On the outside, James looked calmer than before, and his breathing had slowed. 

 

But inside, inside… he was screaming. 

 

_WRONG! Broken leg, broken ribs, shattered cheekbones, so many bruises on her face she’s unrecognisable…_

__

The list of injuries that James had been unable to compile out on the pitch was suddenly coming back to him with such distressing clarity that you’d think he’d learnt them off by heart. 

 

“Bruised?”� he managed finally, with an incredulous on his face.

 

“Yeah,”� Sirius repeated, “I’m so sorry.”�

 

James felt as though there was a bludger trapped inside his skull.

 

Bringing a shaking hand up to his face, he said, “ _Don’t_ bloody apologise to me Sirius. You look in _there_ ,”� he jabbed a finger at the curtain, “and tell me if an apology will wake her up. Just look at her, at what you’ve done, and you’ll see that _sorry_ …sorry doesn’t cut it, Sirius… Nowhere fucking near it!”�

 

Sirius looked at the curtain, and then at James, and back at the curtain again. An uneasy look came over his face, and he paled, creating a stark contrast between his pallid skin and bloody nose. 

 

He shook his head and made to walk away, but James shoved him back hard, and with his shaking fists clenched by his sides, he growled, “Look at what you’ve done or I’ll break your jaw for the second time tonight.”� 

 

With a sideways look at his best friend, Sirius stuffed the wad of tissue paper into his pocket, drew back the hangings and stepped in.

James was already searching the shelves in Madam Pomfrey’s office for Dreamless Sleep potion when he heard Sirius gasping. He finally found a bottle and made quickly for the exit, he couldn’t stand being in here any longer. When shutting the door, James looked up in time to see Sirius stumbling out from behind the curtains, his face in his hands.

 

With the door closed, James picked up his bag and tucked the potion bottle safely inside. Ignoring the sounds of his best friend retching on the other side of the wall, he sprinted for the last time that day, back to heads’ common room, where he could go to sleep and forget about everything.

 

At least until tomorrow.

 

_***_

 

Hours later, the silence in the Hospital Wing was smothering Sirius. Madam Pomfrey had fixed his nose in a flash, but because he had been violently sick, she refused to let him leave. 

 

He lay on his side in bed now, with one hand loosely gripping the rim of a bucket the matron had given him. This bucket promptly ‘vanished’ any substance as soon as it hit the bottom, which was good for Sirius because he was in no mood to be casting ‘ _evanesco_ ’ every five minutes.

 

He couldn’t sleep, not now, not ever. His mind wouldn’t let him.

 

He hadn’t felt as wretched in all his life; even on the day he left home, which up until now had been the worst.

 

Suddenly he heard footsteps on the corridor, and dropped his bucket in surprise. He winced as it clattered to the floor, and waited silently for the _click_ , _click_ to fade.

 

The clicking of heels stopped however, right outside the Hospital Wing door. It was opened slightly, giving just enough room for the person to slip in unnoticed. There were two of them, he realised. The pair were speaking in rapid undertones, and didn’t go to Madam Pomfrey’s office as Sirius had expected, but instead walked purposefully towards the beds.

 

_Bloody hell,_ he thought, snapping his eyes shut and clearing his face of all expression.

 

The two shadows passed by his bed, and Sirius recognised the voices.

 

McGonagall. And Dumbledore.

 

He caught a snatch of the Deputy Head’s words, “-Wasn’t unexpected, Albus. He wants to make an example of her. The order hasn’t been - ”�

 

Sirius was mystified as to what McGonagall was on about, but from her tone he understood that ‘the order’ whatever it was, should be spelt with a capital ‘O’.

 

The two professors halted at the end bed, and passed behind the curtains. 

 

There wasn’t a sound then for the next ten minutes, and Sirius was starting to think that they’d somehow disapparated away, even though Moony had drilled it into his brain long ago that ‘you cannot apparate or disapparate within the grounds of Hogwarts.’ 

 

A moment later however, a murmured incantation told Sirius that they were still in there, doing _something_.

Then, something floated eerily up from within the curtains, a smoky outline of a person with their legs crossed like a Buddhist monk. He thought at first that it was Peeves playing a trick, or one of the other Hogwarts ghosts. It didn’t look like the other ghosts though, who were pale and transparent. No, this phantom was dark and much more solid looking.

 

The figure continued to hover above the curtain rail and spun around slowly, so Sirius saw its face.

 

LILY EVANS. 

 

He had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop himself screaming in horror. 

 

Frozen with fear, Sirius watched as the _ghost_ ofLily Evans stopped revolving and chuckled quietly to herself…to _itself_ , he corrected.

 

_It’s not her. It’s not her. Lily Evans can’t be dead, she just can’t be… _

 

Even as he reasoned with himself, Sirius could already see the next ten years of his life, locked up in a cell in Azkaban. 

 

I killed her. I’m a murderer.

__

Dumbledore uttered a word, and Lily’s ghost disappeared. Sirius blinked, to make sure this wasn’t some horrible fantasy, but the air above her bed remained empty.

 

He had no time to think before the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress came out from behind the curtain, forcing him to feign sleep once more. Had he kept his eyes open, Sirius would have seen Professor Dumbledore turn to look at him through his half-moon glasses, not a twinkle in sight.

 

As soon as the hospital wing door was closed, Sirius leapt up, sending bedclothes flying everywhere and ran to the end of the row. He tore open the curtains, all earlier fears forgotten, and scrambled to Lily’s bed.

 

She lay there just like before, her fiery hair that was splayed out across the pillow stood out against her black-and-blue skin. Tentatively, Sirius put his ear to her chest.

 

Tears of relief fell from his eyes as he felt her heartbeat.

 

“Thank Merlin!”� he muttered, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his pyjama sleeve.

 

Sirius stood back from the bed, such an insane smile spreading across his face he believed he could promote cheering charms for a living. After closing the curtains behind him, he floated back to his own bed, still grinning like a fool.

 

Ten minutes later, the joy had ebbed away considerably, and Sirius’s head was buzzing with unanswered questions. For one, how could Lily Evans’s fall be used as an example?

 

And more worryingly, if it wasn’t unexpected, why hadn’t they tried to stop it?

__

Outside the door, Minerva gave Albus a stern look.

 

“Why did you let him hear all that? Now that he knows something is wrong, he could be targeted and put the entire Order at risk! And Lily Evans’s life, for the second time!”�

 

Dumbledore replied gravely, “I think it would be more dangerous for Miss Evans, if he _didn’t_ know something was wrong, Minerva. Mr Potter seems to have some suspicions concerning her welfare, but we cannot allow Mr Black to make the same mistake again that he made today. And by allowing him to know enough information to help Miss Evans, but to not jeopardise the Order, we will be, what’s the muggle phrase? Ah, ‘killing two birds with one stone’, though it escapes me as to why one would wish to do such a thing. Why kill one bird, let alone two? And with a stone-”�

 

“And what about Lily Evans?”� interrupted McGonagall, “We cannot solely rely on students for her protection.”�

 

“ Nor can we solely rely on the teachers, myself included, or the castle’s wards. That is why she must be sent home, at all possible opportunity. Presumably she will wish to return home at Christmas and Easter, but I would sleep more soundly in my bed if I knew she was in Surrey for Halloween, rather than at Hogwarts.”�

 

“I agree Albus, so arrangements must be made for her to return home. Obviously, certain Slyt- _pupils_ must not be aware of any such arrangements-”�

 

“No one other than ourselves and Miss Evans should know of them.”�

 

“It’s settled then, Lily Evans shall return home at Halloween, Christmas and Easter, if not by her own request, then by ours.”�

 

__

_***_

 

“Ouch! Ow, for Merlin’s sake!”�

 

James had been running through the common room in his socks and stubbed his toe on the table leg. Muttering curses under his breath, he hopped over to the sofa and proceeded to overturn all the cushions, scattering them everywhere. He found a sickle down the back of the couch and pocketed it, though it wasn’t what he was looking for.

 

Dropping to his hands and knees, he laid his head on the floor, and searched underneath the table. _Nope, nothing there_. He jumped back up to his feet and checked his watch, _ten to nine_. 

 

He couldn’t be late for his first class on Monday, Defence Against the Dark Arts, not after skipping it entirely last week. James hadn’t gone to bed last night until one o’clock in the morning, as he had been serving detention with Flitwick, marking OWL practice papers. Even though he was completely exhausted from quidditch practice that afternoon, twice as long as usual, to make up for time lost on Monday, James couldn’t get to sleep without his dose of Dreamless Sleep potion.

 

 So understandably, he had _over_ slept and missed breakfast. Admittedly, he didn’t really mind that much because now he sat by himself during meals, as he didn’t want to look at, let alone speak to Peter, Remus or Sirius. Especially Sirius.

 

Although he didn’t mind missing out on the joys of eating breakfast alone, he _would_ mind if he received another week’s worth of detentions for tardiness. But he would get to class with plenty of time to spare…

 

“If only I could find my _bloody tie_!”�

 

  James couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his Gryffindor tie, and had planned to spend most of the weekend scouring the castle for it, but through detentions, Lily, quidditch, Lily, homework, and Lily, there just hadn’t been any time to do so.

Lily Evans had taken up a lot of James’s time over the past week, though he hadn’t visited her once. He had walked to the Hospital Wing so many times that he’d lost count, but when he came within sight of her bed, he simply froze.

 

He got this gut feeling every time he got near her, an alarm bell going off in head, telling him to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. But even with these warnings, he still went back every day. The closest he had got to seeing her was on Friday evening, before detention, when Madam Pomfrey had told him ‘do something useful rather than standing outside the door like an some vagrant’ by clearing out all of the bedside cabinets. 

 

It was dull work; he could have used the summoning charm, but chose to do it by hand. Merlin knows what could come flying out at him. He had been working on a locker, extremely aware that it was right next to Lily’s, when he spotted something underneath the curtain.

 

_Must have rolled away,_ James had thought, reaching out to grab it.

 

He’d known what it was before he saw it. 

 

Her wand.

 

James had crossed over, placing the willow wand on her bedside cabinet. He had just caught a glimpse of her bruised face when the old fear kicked in. With amazing speed, James exited the hospital wing, calling out his excuses to Madam Pomfrey when he was already on the corridor outside.

 

James’s stomach groaned, bringing him back to the present. “Sod it,”� he muttered, running up to his room and emerging with his schoolbag over his shoulder, his shoes on, and an odd sock in his hand.

 

Hurrying through all the shortcuts leading to the Great Hall, he held the yellowing sock out in front of him and quickly transfigured it into a red and gold striped tie. McGonagall couldn’t have done a better job; it even had a nametag labelled _J Potter_ , stitched into it, exactly like the original. He threw it around his neck and knotted it hastily, hoping he could grab a slice of toast and eat it on the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

 

He was on the corridors now and they were deserted; but even if they had been chock-a-block with people James still wouldn’t have been slowed down, as students had taken to giving him a wide berth whenever he walked from class to class. 

 

The first time this happened, it was Tuesday morning, and James was on his way to Double Transfiguration. He didn’t notice at first, but when he got to the charms corridor, it became apparent that something was up. People going up on the left-hand side, people going down on the right, and James was somewhere in the middle. He had an entire lane to himself. 

 

Although it made him feel like he was carrying some contagious disease, looking on the bright side, he was never late for class.

 

He supposed this was due to the events of last Monday night, being found in the changing rooms covered in blood, and then ‘attacking’ his best friend. Of course, a week after the “incident”� as people were calling it, the truth had naturally been distorted. Though only _ever_ so slightly. 

 

The latest version James had heard was how he had marched the Gryffindor quidditch team out onto the pitch, confiscated all of their wands, and then forced them to watch, horror-struck, as he pushed Lily Evans from the top step. Oh yes, all the while torturing “that _gorgeous_ Sirius Black”� with the Cruciatus curse.

 

He had had half a mind to turn around to the two Ravenclaw girls and ask them if they’d like to witness it first hand, but common sense stopped him. They had no clue what they were talking about, no one did, and therefore, he ought not waste his breath. 

 

James came to the open doors of the Great Hall, and was relieved, as the students had not yet begun to leave for class. He walked to his seat, and felt the hairs on the back of neck stand up. Scanning the sea of faces, he realised not just _one_ person was looking at him, _everyone_ was. He glanced discreetly at his ‘tie’ hoping it hadn’t turned back into a sock. That would be embarrassing. 

 

_Tie is fine, so why’s everyone staring?_

 

James sat down quickly, and kicked his bag underneath the table. Excited hissing broke out around him, and he was just wondering what the hell was going on, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw something shooting through the air. Right at his face.

 

He caught the rolled up paper deftly in his right hand, thanking Merlin for his quick reflexes, and looked around to see who had thrown it. James spotted Remus halfway up the table, and frowned.

 

Remus mouthed, ‘Read it,’ with an uneasy expression on his face.

 

James unrolled the paper, and sat open mouthed, as he read the headline:

 

 

Hogwarts Homicidal Hotshot 

                                                      

He looked up towards Remus, mouthing, ‘Is this a joke?’

 

Remus shook his head.

 

_I always knew I’d make the front page_ , James thought, dazed, _but this is bloody ridiculous._

__

There were four black and white photographs below the headline, one of Lily Evans, who seemed embarrassed and kept sidling out of the frame when she thought no one was looking, and one of Sirius, who was right in the foreground of his photo, pretending to walk up and down stairs while barking with laughter. There was one of James himself, flashing that award-winning smile, but running a hand through his hair uncomfortably, as though he knew what his photo was being used for. And the final photo was of a twenty-something year old witch, with elaborate and curiously rigid blonde curls set around her face, jewelled spectacles, and a wide smile that showed three gold teeth. 

 

James already hated her. Scowling, he began to read:

 

Hogwarts Homicidal Hotshot 

_Rita Skeeter, recently promoted to_ Daily Prophet _reporter, investigated the events of a freak accident that occurred on Hogwarts school grounds last Monday morning. However, it soon became apparent that this was just a fabricated story to cover-up a much darker truth._

 

 

Raging, he skimmed through the rest of the article, stopping to re-read lines such as, 

 

 

“ _According to some Hogwarts students_ _, t_ _he attack is supposedly a result of a love triangle involving the three seventh year pupils; James Potter, Lily Evans, and Sirius Black._ ”�

 

 

If James hadn’t just been accused of attempted murder he would have laughed, but instead he glared across the hall at the Slytherins, who were all wearing self-satisfied smirks.

 

He returned to the newspaper, and skipped to the last paragraph:

 

 

_A Ministry of Magic official, who has wished to remain anonymous, spoke to the_ Daily Prophet, _“Our main concern is that Potter will attempt to finish what he started, and therefore we are strongly recommending that Albus Dumbledore hand him over to the Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement immediately.”� The unprovoked attacks on Miss Evans and Mr Black have shook the wizarding world from its foundations, and the public’s love affair with the famous (or should I say_ infamous _?) James Potter has finally come to a disturbing end._

__

 

James stood up abruptly, with his bag in his hand, and walked towards the exit. A path had already been cleared for him; he went down it with his head up, preparing to go straight to class. But as he came into the entrance hall he whipped around and shouted furiously,

 

“WHAT ARE YOU ALL BLOODY GAWPING AT?”�

 

The crowd flinched, and James heard a first year start to cry.

 

“Potter, did you really try to murder the Head Girl?”�

 

James glowered at Bellatrix Black, who was standing in between the Lestrange brothers, arms folded and an indulgent smile playing on her lips.

 

“OF COURSE I DID!”� he spat sarcastically, “BEEN PLANNING IT FOR YEARS, DIDN’T YOU KNOW?”� 

 

_Oh bollocks_ , James thought as soon as the words had left his mouth, _wrong thing to say._

 

***

 

Lily Evans shot up in her bed, and immediately thought, “Oh God, I’m going to be late!”�

 

While still half asleep, she got dressed in her uniform, not noticing that it had been washed and folded. She stood up drowsily and felt a terrible pain in her right knee. Whimpering, she limped over to the curtains and drew them back. 

 

The morning light stung at her eyes, so shielded them with her hand. Feeling something wet, Lily took her hand away from her forehead, and watched as the blood fell from her fingertips. 

 

“Miss Evans! What are you doing u- ”� Madam Pomfrey stopped in her tracks.

 

Lily turned around to face the Matron, a distraught expression on her face. “Madam Pomfrey, I don’t know why I’m here, I- I can’t re-remem-”�

 

“Lily, calm down,”� the young woman said softly.

 

“I’m sorry- I- I have to go to class,”� she said anxiously, wiping her hand roughly on her skirt. Lily looked back in at the bed she had been sleeping in, and turned back to Madam Pomfrey, her bottom lip trembling, “Where’s my bag?”�

 

Madam Pomfrey moved closer to her, and with a pitying look said, “Come on back to bed, love. You’ve suffered a terrible acc-”�

 

“No!”� she cried, limping towards the door, “I’ve already missed first class because of that Sirius Black-”�

 

“Lily, you’re not strong enough, you can’t-,”� urged the Matron, getting more and more worried.

 

“I have to go-”� muttered Lily, quickening her pace.

 

Madam Pomfrey started coming after her so she broke into a run. After the first step her knees buckled and she fell to the floor with a scream of pain.

 

She curled up on the floor, sobbing in agony. Madam Pomfrey rushed over, and levitated the girl gently back to her bed, giving Lily a strange sense of déjÃ¡ vu.

 

“Sssh, ”� said the matron soothingly, peering into the young girl’s face a few minutes later, “You _fell_ Lily love, don’t you remember? You _fell_.”�

 

Lily went silent, and looked away, her brow creasing. 

 

A minute later, a painful look passed over her face, and with a tortured expression, she shook her head, burying her face in her hands.

 

***

 

The following day, Lily made her way back to the Heads common room. She was walking slowly, as her right knee was still very tender, and would take a few weeks to get back to normal. Yesterday she had learnt that the hard way.

 

Lily had been wracking her brains all night, trying to remember falling down the steps, but she couldn’t. She recalled watching Sirius walk across the quidditch pitch, whistling to himself, but after that everything was black. Next thing she knew she was awake in the Hospital Wing, believing it was still the same day, and that she was about to miss History of Magic.  

 

Before leaving the wing this morning, Madam Pomfrey had fussed over her, healing little cuts on her face, strapping up her leg with a roll of bandage, all the while telling her that she was very lucky to be alive, so to be very careful from now on.

 

The gashes on Lily’s back had almost healed when she checked two weeks ago, so it was very unlikely that Madam Pomfrey had noticed them, but Lily wanted to be sure. “Um, Madam Pomfrey,”� she said quietly, “was my back all right when you found me?”�

 

The matron was breaking up a slab of chocolate with a hammer as she replied, “Oh, I didn’t find you dear, no, it was the Slytherin quidditch team, down for an early practice,”� she put her tongue between her teeth, chiselling away at an extra thick piece, “Your spine was sound, thank Merlin, but the skin on your back was terribly bruised… terribly bruised.”� She shook her head sadly and sniffed. 

 

With a final whack, she cracked the chocolate in two, giving her one piece to eat now, and one to eat later. After forcing it down, Lily was full, and decided not to go to breakfast after all. She was still a bit unsure of people seeing her yet, as her face wasn’t exactly a work of art, not that it ever had been. There was a thin red cut that traced her jaw line, and plump violet bruises scattered across her cheekbones.

 

Lily was about to leave the Hospital Wing, when Madam Pomfrey called out, “Wait, Miss Evans, you’ve forgotten your tie.”�

 

“My tie?”� Lily repeated, looking back down, knowing that she already had one on.

 

“That’s right. Do you know, you must have came to for a bit after you had fallen, and wrapped it around your knee to stop the blood flow. Do you remember _that_?”�

The young nurse waited hopefully.

 

“I can’t remember,”� replied Lily, who was annoyed with herself, “Are you sure its mine?”�

 

“Yes, I’m sure,”� said the matron, pushing the red and gold striped tie into the girl’s hands, and clasping them in her own. She smiled and said, “Take care of yourself now, and don’t go to places without thinking of how you’ll get back first, understand?”�

 

Lily smiled and nodded.

 

She took the tie, and after murmuring her thanks, left the Hospital Wing, closing the door behind her.

 

 

She was walking gingerly along the corridor now, and pulled the tie out of her pocket. She ran it through her fingers, enjoying the silky feel against her skin. Turning it over, she read the nametag labelled, _J Potter_ , and stopped.

 

_Could it be possible?_

Lily said the password, (‘ _Cum tacent, clamant_ ’) to the painting, climbed up into the portrait hole with much difficulty, and spent the next two minutes trying to get through it with as little pain as possible. She emerged into the common room, planting her feet on the carpet with a happy sigh; it was good to be back.

 

Suddenly, a mop of messy black hair appeared from underneath the table, followed by a forehead and eyebrows, until all of James Potter’s face was in plain view. He looked quite angry, Lily thought, like on the day he had last spoken to her, when he had told her to ‘stay the hell away’ from him. 

 

James’s eyes widened as realised that that was _Lily Evans_ standing at the portrait hole. She looked different somehow, her face was still bruised, naturally, but she seemed like she wasn’t sure of herself at all. Like she wasn’t sure of anything, in fact. He scrambled out from underneath the table and quickly brushed the dust off his robes. He was about to run a hand through his hair but was reminded horribly of the photo in the Daily Prophet yesterday, and stopped himself.

 

Lily glanced over, and found him staring at her; his eyes flickered to her bandaged leg a few times, before looking at the floor.

 

She cleared her throat and asked warily, “Um, what were you looking for?”�

 

James raised his eyebrows, he had been thinking about something, “Oh, er- my tie, don’t have a clue where it is. I’ve been wearing a sock for the past week.”�

 

Lily chuckled quietly to herself, and had another sensation of déjÃ¡ vu. 

 

Reaching into her pocket, she said, “Er, I think I have it here,”� she held the tie out to him and watched as look of realisation passed over his face.

 

James paled as he took it from her, finally remembering where he had left it.

 

Feeling curious, and going by the look on Potter’s face, Lily went on, “Madam Pomfrey said that was found wrapped around my knee, and it stopped me losing a lot of blood.”�

 

“Really?”� said James uninterestedly, now engrossed in putting it on. He didn’t say anything else.

 

Lily felt his eyes on her as she limped over to the fireplace to collect her bag.

 

James picked up his own bag and walked to the portrait hole, he was halfway into it when he stopped and asked, “Are you er… going to breakfast?”�

 

“Yes,”� replied Lily slowly, not really sure why she hadn’t just said no.

 

James nodded silently and went on. 

 

_What the hell are you doing?_ he thought, _this girl is the reason why you can’t sleep at right, the reason why you’re sitting by yourself at meals! Everything bad in your life is because of HER._

__

_SHUT UP._

__

Lily came out on the other side and saw James halfway up the corridor. He slowed down so she could catch up with him, and they walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall in silence.

 

When they came within view of the doors, James stopped and put his hands in his pockets. Lily stopped too.

 

“No, you er- go on, I’ll follow you in a minute. You uh…don’t want to be seen with me,”� he said quietly, without looking at her.

 

Lily cocked an eyebrow, “So, in other words, Potter, you don’t want your friends to see you with _me_.”�

 

“ _Evans_ , they’re not my fr-,”� he began, meeting her gaze fiercely. His paused, and his expression softened, “It’s not that, it’s- ”�

 

“What?”�

 

It’s because everyone thinks I pushed you off the quidditch stand, are you happy?

__

“You’ll find out soon enough, now _go_ ,”� he gestured towards the door, “Hurry up, I’m starving.”�

 

Giving him an odd look, Lily limped past him and into the great hall.

 

James walked around the entrance hall for a minute, thinking about what had just happened in the common room. Lily (he didn’t mind calling her that in his head) gave him his tie back, which was good, because although his tiesock was okay, he still knew he was wearing a sock around his neck, even if no one else did. She didn’t seem to remember how his tie had gotten around her knee, which was even better. If she didn’t ask any more questions about it, he should be fine, but if anyone found out that he _had_ actually seen Lily that day, James would be arrested before you could say, ‘Azkaban.’

 

Deciding that he had waited long enough, James turned around on his heel and walked in through the huge oak doors, praying that she wasn’t in an inquisitive mood.

 

There was no sudden hush as he entered; in fact, there was an increase in volume, as James got closer to his seat. He stopped beside his usual place at the Gryffindor table, looked down at the person sitting in it, and said blankly, “You’re sitting in my seat.”�

 

“No,”� replied Lily, the corners of her mouth twitching as she pushed aside yesterday’s edition of the Daily Prophet, and began to pour herself a glass of milk, “I’m sitting in _my_ seat. Your seat’s up _there_.”� She nodded her head up to the middle of the table where three boys sat, like the rest of the school, watching the exchange between the Head Boy and Girl with great interest.

 

James scowled, “I’m not sitting with them, move…please.”�

 

“Or what?”� she asked, propping her elbow up on the table and holding her cheek in her hand. Staring up at him, she added jokingly, “Are you going to _push_ me off my chair?”�

 

The effect of those words was staggering. 

 

Forks clattered, plates smashed, juice splashed, people gasped, jaws dropped, eyes popped and everyone was thinking,

__

He **_is_** going to push her off her chair!

 

Lily stopped smiling and looked around, realising she had said something wrong. She glanced up at James, who was calmly wiping his glasses on his jumper.

 

Pretending he was fixing his tie, he said to Lily in an undertone, “You shouldn’t have said that. Sarcasm is completely lost on these people.”�

 

 Moving over a bit to make room for him, she muttered dryly, “I noticed.”�

 

 

For the rest of the day, the showdown between Potter and Evans in the great hall was being related endlessly to those who had been stupid enough to miss breakfast that morning. Even the Gryffindors, who had been sitting _beside_ the two Heads, swore that they had seen James’s wand hidden up his sleeve and had heard him murmuring under his breath, cursing Lily Evans with Imperius, so she would give him a seat.

 

It was last class and Lily was traipsing across the grass to the Greenhouses. She squinted in the cold light at the quidditch pitch in the distance; she had found it easy to joke about her fall this morning because she didn’t even remember it. How can you be afraid of something that isn’t real to you? She wanted to remember; she really did, but couldn’t help thinking that she had enough bad memories already.

 

She turned the corner, still staring at the stands, when she bumped into a brick wall. Falling onto the gravel with a whimper as she landed on her knee, Lily discovered that it wasn’t a brick wall after all, it was Sirius Black. 

 

“I’m sorry,”� he said, grinning apologetically, lifting her bag off the ground after she rejected his hand.

 

Lily rubbed her knee, now back on her feet, “No, it’s okay, Black- ”�

 

“No,”� said Sirius, shaking his head, “ _Sorry_ …for everything.”� He gave her a meaningful look.

 

“Oh.”�

 

“I was a prat, I’m sorry Evans. I shouldn’t have left you up there like that, if James hadn’t- ”� he stopped.

 

“What?”� said Lily quickly.

 

There was a pause.

 

“What?”� repeated Sirius stupidly, realising he’d almost put his foot in it there.

 

Lily surveyed him for a minute, and said, “Never mind. I have to go to Herbology now, thanks.”�

 

Sirius started, “Wait! Wait, I’m not finished yet. I have something to tell you.”�

 

“Black, you’ve already said sorry, that’s enough for- ”�

 

“Want to know how to get into the kitchens?”� he said, grinning mischievously.

 

Lily’s eyes lit up, “Yeah- I mean, yes, okay.”�

Pleased that she hadn’t slapped him in the face or worse, because his nose was still a bit sore, Sirius proceeded to tell Lily all about the ticklish pear.

 

 

Later that night, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were crouched in the corner of the Hogwarts kitchens, the invisibility cloak shrouding the two of them. 

 

“Can you please tell me why we’re doing this again, Padfoot?”� muttered Remus in an irritated voice.

 

“For the third time Moony, I want to know what Evans thinks of my ‘I’m Sorry for being a Prat’ party,”� Sirius replied happily, looking over at the four long tables at the entrance to the kitchen, each one laden with cakes, chocolates and ice-cream. A large banner hung from the ceiling with Sirius’s beaming face on it, so there could be no mistake _who_ it was that was apologising.

 

“Well, technically it’s not _your_ party, as the house-elves did all of it. But that still doesn’t explain why we stole Prongs’s cloak, to sit here like…like stalkers, waiting for her to come in. Could you not have just asked her what she thought of it tomorrow?”�

 

“No!”� hissed Sirius, scandalized, “I want to see her face when she comes in, and then we’ll- (Remus gave him a dangerous look) then _I’ll_ jump out and shout ‘surprise!’”�

 

Remus rolled his eyes, “Fine,”� smiling at his friend’s eagerness to please Lily and get her to forgive him. Just then, the wall opened and Lily Evans limped through. Remus felt his friend tense with excitement. 

 

Her mouth fell open as she took in the house table replicas, groaning beneath the plates of sweets. She lifted her gaze to the ceiling, and her lips curved into a smile as the picture Sirius waved down at her.

 

“Are we jumping out yet?”� whispered Remus.

 

“No, wait…this is the best part,”� Sirius replied.

 

A small house-elf sped across the tiled floor towards Lily, holding a silver tray above its head with a giant mug of foaming butterbeer on it.

 

Lily felt something tugging at the hem of her skirt, and looked down to see a rather ugly looking doll with large bat-like ears.

 

She flinched and backed away from it, terrified. 

 

She remembered now. She remembered everything.

 

“Miss,”� squeaked the tiny elf anxiously, “I is sorry if Poppy startled you, Miss.”�

 

“Poppy?”� asked Lily suspiciously.

 

“Yes, Miss, I is Poppy. Would you like a butterbeer?”� The house-elf stood on its tiptoes, so that the tray was even higher than before.

 

Lily breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. Poppy’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

 

“But,”� went on Lily guardedly, “you could help me with something.”�

 

“Anything, Miss!”� squeaked the elf, beaming.

 

“Do you know every house-elf that works here?”�

 

“Yes, Miss er- ”�

 

“Lily,”� she said quietly.

 

“Oh, yes, Miss Lily! Poppy knows every elf at Hogwarts!”�

 

“Well, I’m looking for quite an old house-elf, his eyes are grey and a bit bloodshot, his hair is grey too and it grows out of his ears.”� Lily closed her eyes and thought hard, trying to picture him in her mind. “Oh yes, his nose, it’s like pig’s.”�

 

Poppy scrunched up her features, deep in thought.

 

Lily said, suddenly, “Er… but he doesn’t wear one of those,”� she gestured towards Poppy’s toga, stamped with the Hogwarts crest, “He has this um…well, I suppose it’s a rag really, tied around his middle.”�

 

Poppy looked up at her, and squeaked, “Then he can ‘t be a Hogwarts elf, Miss Lily, we all have to wear the uniform.”� 

 

“Oh,”� said Lily softly, frowning, “I- I must have made a mistake then, Poppy. Thank you.”�

 

The little elf scooted off, leaving the Head Girl alone. She glanced at the food and found that she had lost her appetite. Turning around slowly, she sighed sadly, and left.

 

 

Back in the corner, Remus asked, “Did you just say ‘ _creature_?’”�

 

“No,”� growled Sirius in a dangerous voice, his brow furrowed, “I said ‘ _Kreacher_ ,’ with a K.”�


	14. Click

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

Back in the corner, Remus asked, “Did you just say ‘ _creature_?’”�

 

“No,”� growled Sirius in a dangerous voice, his brow furrowed, “I said ‘ _Kreacher_ ,’ with a K.”� ____

 

CHAPTER 14

 

_ “Click”� _

 

 

“Thinking a _house elf_ could’ve… so _stupid_ …”� she muttered angrily under her breath, glancing down the deserted corridor.

 

Lily gripped her wand tightly as she walked rather lopsidedly past the snoozing portraits.

 

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t block out the images that had been flashing through mind, assaulting her senses, for the past hour. Lily knew they were figments of her imagination, nothing more.

 

And yet, that memory had seemed so real, so _vivid_ that for a split second, everything had clicked.

 

_“Er- hello, I’m Lily.”�_

__

_The house elf recoiled in disgust._

__

_Keeping its large bloodshot eyes fixed on the girl, it got to its feet, muttering under its breath._

__

_Thinking that the poor thing (whatever it was) must be scared out of its wits, Lily pocketed her wand and spoke gently,”� Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you did I? I’m sorry for sitting on you, it’s just-”� a look of realisation crossed her face, “Are you a house elf?”�_

__

_Her green eyes were alight with interest, momentarily forgetting the day’s troubles._

__

_She took a step towards the elf, explaining her delight, “I’ve read all about them, but I’ve never actually seen one bef-”�_

__

_“Disgusting mudblood,”� spat the elf in a hoarse voice, his snout-like nose wrinkled in revulsion at Lily’s proximity. “Talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, besmirching Kreacher’s uniform with her filthy skin.”�_

__

_Lily was stunned. She inspected her hands quickly, and finding them clean she looked up at the elf who continued to mutter, a frown creasing her brow._

__

_Did he just call me a…?_

__

_Feeling more disconcerted than actually offended, Lily took in the elf’s ’uniform’; nothing but filthy rag knotted around its wasted form like a loincloth._

__

_“Sorry?”� she asked with more than a trace of uncertainty._

__

_It didn’t respond, but instead eyed her malevolently while muttering, “Stupid mudblood, just like Kreacher’s mistress told him.”�_

 

_Lily didn’t know if it was Black’s earlier behaviour, or even Bellatrix’s threats a few weeks ago that was making her uneasy, but this house elf worried her. Perhaps it was because she’d read so much about house elves being passive and obliging, that to meet one which was rude and vicious and…prejudiced- it was unsettling._

__

_The elf surveyed the grounds sneeringly, obviously unaccustomed to the landscape._

__

_“Um…are you lost?”� she asked, making another brave stab at conversation._

__

_He looked towards the castle with a miserable expression on his face, ignoring Lily for the moment._

__

_“Kreacher has not been here before, but he is not lost. He knows of Hogwarts, crawling with mudbloods and blood traitors and all the worst filth of wizards, ruining the most noble and ancient families, turning sons against their parents, breaking mothers’ hearts!”� he screeched, swelling up like a bullfrog._

__

_He whipped around to stare at Lily, his pale eyes wide and menacing._

__

_“It’s mudbloods that do it, mudblood scum like you!”�_

__

_Lily backed away fearfully. She balanced precariously on the edge of the top step and was terribly aware of the drop. Without removing her gaze from the elf, Lily reached out with her left hand, getting hold of the rail._

__

_Kreacher’s eyes alighted on her shaking hand, and beneath the layers of baggy skin he smiled._

__

_“If you’re not lost,”� said Lily in quickening breaths, “then why are you here?”�_

__

_Grimly, the elf shuffled doggedly forward flexing its fingers._

__

_He replied sourly, speaking to her directly for the first time._

__

_“Kreacher was sent here, Mudblood.”�_

__

_He raised a hand into the air…_

__

_“He was sent here for you.”�_

__

__

_Kreacher clicked his twig-like fingers, sending pain scorching down through Lily’s left arm to her fingertips._

__

_She screamed for him to stop._

__

_She screamed for help._

_She even screamed for Black, but he was long gone by now._

__

_Lily couldn’t hold on anymore._

__

_She watched helplessly as her grip slackened and she tumbled backwards._

__

__

_By the time her head smashed off the first step, the elf had already vanished._

__

__

__

Lily winced as she touched her head. She traced the scar from ear to ear and shuddered.

 

Pulling her hand away and tutting angrily with self-reproach, Lily shook herself.

 

“It’s not real. I imagined it. I’m blaming a house-elf for Merlin’s sake.”�

 

Biting back frustrated tears, Lily proceeded to make her rounds of the castle.


	15. The Calm Before The Storm

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER:- 

 

“It’s not real. I imagined it. I’m blaming a house-elf for Merlin’s sake.”�

 

Biting back frustrated tears, Lily proceeded to make her rounds of the castle.

____

 

CHAPTER 15

 

_ “ The Calm before the Storm”� _

 

The Monday morning three days before Halloween dawned pale and blustery. The winds whistling through the castle drowned out teachers’ voices and sent windowpanes rattling and candles and fires sputtering.

 

James Potter and Lily Evans were huddled close to their steaming cauldron in NEWT Potions, where seventh years were attempting to concoct a Draught of Peace from memory. 

 

“Not again,”� Lily muttered as the feeble crackling petered out.

 

“I’ll do it-”� began James, lifting his wand off the table.

 

“No, it’s okay…I will,”� she replied, crouching down to rekindle the flames for the third time.

 

James reluctantly replaced his wand. He gave her a sideways glance as she stooped over, waiting for the flicker of pain to cross her face. She clutched her ribs and masked a sharp intake of breath with a loud cough.

 

Lily straightened up and without meeting James’s eyes said, “I’ll go get the boomslang skin.”� 

 

She bustled over to the student store cupboard and proceeded to rummage through the contents, squinting to read the labels in the dim light.

                                                                                                                          

James stirred the potion clockwise then anticlockwise, and was pleased to see it turning a silver grey colour. Looking around the room he spotted Snape at the professor’s desk, already handing up his completed draught. He returned to his seat, producing a large leather-bound book, and through his curtains of greasy black hair pored over the pages with such fervour that James thought he might be sick.

 

A few weeks ago Snape had implied that James was carrying on with Lily Evans, and James almost murdered him for it. And then what had old Snivellus done?

 

Laughed.

 

James didn’t know what Snape had found to his liking, but it could mean nothing good for him or for Lily.

 

The newly forged friendship between Lily Evans and James Potter was still a great mystery to the most of the school. “Didn’t he try to murder her or something?”� had become a frequently asked question in recent weeks, and although there were still those who believed the _Daily Prophet_ article, they were very much in the minority. Most of the older and wiser students had gotten over the shock of seeing the two enemies together, and simply put it down to the old ‘Heads curse’, saying that they all should have seen it coming.

 

Lily and James ignored the rumours of their love/hate relationship. In fact, Lily and James ignored quite a lot of things; for instance, they never so much as mentioned what James had seen in their first week back, or the conversation that followed in the trophy room. Lily had pointedly told him that she was going straight into Auror training after she finished Hogwarts, and so would be living in the trainees’ accommodation somewhere in Kent. James realised only a few days ago that that conversation was her way of reassuring him that she would not be going home again, so he should forget about it.

 

Hanging about with Lily wasn’t the cruel and unusual punishment James had always thought it would be. Outside school hours, they both had responsibilities like Quidditch and Charms club, so the chance meetings they had in their common room were quite rare, but not unwelcome. James had come to realise that there was so much he didn’t know about the muggle world, and regretted giving up Muggle Studies after Lily told him about the ‘Postman’; a bizarre creature that Lily herself could not even describe (as her post came very early), who delivered letters, and had a strange enmity with dogs. Following James’s hesitant acceptance that the Postman actually existed, and was not ‘real’ in the sense that Father Christmas was real, he was appalled to discover that Lily was quite ignorant of the glorious wizarding sport that was Quidditch, and by the time they finished their rounds that evening, he had turned her into an expert.

 

The class was now shrouded with silver vapour issuing from the cauldrons and James looked over to see where Lily was. Through the mist he saw she was still at the store cupboard, chatting to someone, the boomslang skin in her hand.

 

A bark of laughter rang through the dungeon, and James realised what he was seeing.

 

what the hell does he think he’s doing? 

 

Sirius Black was talking to Lily Evans.

 

James felt his face flush with anger as he watched.

 

He was talking to her like he was her friend.

 

And she was _smiling._   

 

James pushed his chair back roughly, beginning to rise from his seat, but the scraping of the wood on stone seemed to have jolted Lily, as she suddenly broke off the conversation and hurried back over to their cauldron.

 

“Did you remember to stir it?”� she asked anxiously.

 

He nodded in assent, biting back the desire to ask her what Sirius wanted. He stared at a point over Lily’s left shoulder, where a tired looking Remus was trying to revive Peter, who had breathed in the fumes of his extra concentrated Draught of Peace and was now at risk of falling into an irreversible sleep. Sirius looked over the scene with apparent boredom, but still helped by unwrapping bars of chocolate (of which Remus kept large stores) and then shoving them into the chubby boy’s mouth.

 

Lily pursed her lips, guessing what had his attention. “He apologised to me, you know.”�

 

James cursed, shaking his head. 

 

Shrugging, she said, “Don’t see the point in holding grudges.”� She added the slimy boomslang to the potion. “I mean, I can’t remember anything, it’s not like I’ve got any lasting injuries, and besides,”� James shifted in his seat when she turned to look at him, “It’s not even his fault, really.”�

 

He was about to argue but she cut him off. “He _didn’t_ push me James, and despite popular belief, neither did you. I fell. End of story.”�

 

She finished scrubbing down the table and hastily filled a vial. She pushed it into his hands just as the bell rang and began throwing books haphazardly into the cauldron.

 

James labelled the potion with their initials, _‘J.P & L.E’_ and left it up to the teacher’s desk.

 

He caught up with Lily struggling on the stairs, where he was still receiving a wide berth. Lifting the heavy cauldron out of her hands and swinging it easily over his shoulder he asked, “What’s the rush?”�

 

Lily stopped frowning at him for taking the cauldron, and her face broke into a grin. “We’re in Charms now.”�

 

James laughed at her expression, and after rolling his eyes, started running to keep up.

 

When they arrived at the classroom, Lily started to make her way to the front, but James refused point blank to sit beside the teacher, and after a battle of wills, Lily gave in and allowed James to lead her down to his normal seat at the very back of the room. 

 

“Today,”� squeaked Professor Flitwick from atop his pile of cushions, “we will be taking your O.W.L knowledge of growth charms, and advancing it to N.E.W.T level in aging charms.”�

 

He demonstrated the charm on a baby kneazle (a knitten) that was sitting on his desk. The kneazle rapidly increased in size, its fur lengthening and becoming glossier and finer up until a point when it was clearly in its prime. Then the speckled brown hue began to dull, and the fur became matted and straggly and its outsize ears drooped. The old kneazle looked up at the teacher with a menacing expression on its face, an expression which clearly said, “Turn me back now, _or else_.”� With a tap of his wand Flitwick quickly returned the feline to its normal appearance.

 

Soon the classroom was buzzing with activity. There were cried incantations, hoots of glee as people stared at their friends in middle age, and loud clunks as the few very elderly students dropped off to sleep, slumping over their desks and snoring into their beards.

 

“Try again,”� she said in a frustrated tone.

 

James sighed and performed the charm. 

 

Lily closed her eyes, willing it to work. She felt her arms and legs lengthening, her auburn hair thickening, and faint lines began appearing on her face…

 

Suddenly, the feeling stopped.

 

Her eyes snapped open, and gave James a questioning look.

 

“I swear I’m doing it right, it’s just not working.”� He pulled a cracked rectangular mirror out of his pocket, and showed it to Lily. “The charm goes alright at first, and then it just seems to die off.”� 

 

Lily took the mirror, amazed at how vain James must be to carry this thing around with him, and stared at the reflection looking back at her.

 

There wasn’t that much difference. She had laughter lines around her mouth, and her green eyes looked a bit weary, but she couldn’t be more than twenty at the most.

 

Frowning, she sat it down beside her and picked up her wand. “I’ll have a go then, I’m better at Charms than you anyway.”� Spotting the look on his face she quickly added, “But you’re far better than me in Transfiguration.”�

 

James grinned at the compliment.

 

Lily pointed her wand at him and muttered the spell. 

 

His face began to change slightly, with stubble appearing on his chin and bags under his eyes. His wild mess of black hair calmed down slightly too before-

 

“What are we doing wrong?”�

 

James cocked an eyebrow. “It stopped?”� He asked incredulously.

 

Lily nodded, totally nonplussed. “I’ll have to ask Flitwick about it.”�

 

He grabbed the mirror of the desk and let out a breath of air as he saw his face. “A bit worse for wear, aren’t I?”� he said, glancing up at Lily.

 

He peered at the creases round his eyes. “If this is what I’ll look like in a few years time, what am I going to be like at _forty_?”� cried James with exaggerated dismay. 

 

Lily thought he was being serious, until she saw the corners of his mouth twitching.

 

She laughed. “ _You?_ What about me?”� She pulled out a few strands of hair. “I’m going grey already!”�

 

James snorted and a few minutes later was in hysterics as Lily continued to shriek in mock horror about her appearance (“I look like a hag! I’ll be using anti-wrinkle potion before I’m even of age!”�), reminding him worryingly of every girlfriend he’d ever had.

 

Holding his sides, James looked up at her. At his stare she stopped. 

 

“What?”� she asked him with a bemused smile, the laughter still in her voice.

 

He shook his head, “Nothing.”� 

 

Trying to ignore the odd look he was giving her, Lily began to pack away her books.

 

_Strange_ , he reflected, _I tormented her for six years and now she’s the only friend I’ve got._

__

***

 

It was after eight o’clock on Tuesday evening, when the meeting in the Slytherin changing room finally got underway. 

 

A thin, nervous-looking boy of about sixteen darted around the room, locking doors and putting imperturbable charms on the walls, ceiling, and floor. He gave a satisfied nod to the girl at the front of the room, and sat down on a bench with the others. 

 

The air was thick with fearful anticipation; the twenty or so teenagers kept glancing at each other, but looking quickly away when they made eye contact.

 

The girl leaning against the wall at the front of the room straightened up and strode forward. Nobody seemed to be breathing anymore and every eye was on her.

Surveying them all through her hooded eyes, she began to speak. 

 

“You know why you are here.”� Her raspy voice echoed off the tiled walls. 

 

“He knows who is faithful to him here, the Dark Lord always knows.”� 

 

A person to her right shifted in their seat, and Bellatrix whipped around to look at them. 

 

“Stand up.”� She snapped.

                                                                             

Willy Widdershins got clumsily to his feet, and although his lanky frame towered over the girl, he quailed under her glare.

 

She turned to the rest of them, a cruel smile on her face. “Look everyone, there’s a Hufflepuff in our midst.”�

 

The few Slytherins with enough confidence laughed appreciatively while those from other houses seemed to shrink where they sat, everything that could be hurt drawn in.

 

“Are you afraid of the Dark Lord?”� Bellatrix hissed at the boy. He seemed to decide after a few seconds that nodding would be the safest reply, so he did.

 

Not taking her eyes off Willy, she addressed them all. “You should all fear him! His power is unparalleled! But as servants of the Dark Lord, we can share in that power!”�

 

She walked to the middle of the room, rolling up her sleeves to reveal a black tattoo on her left forearm. Withdrawing her wand from a pocket in her robes, she motioned for a few others to do the same. 

 

They stood beside her in the centre; the thin, twitchy boy was Rabastan Lestrange; next to him was Severus Snape, wearing a very ugly expression as he twirled his wand between his pale fingers; then there was Avery, a stocky young man who was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, staring hungrily at the assembled students; finally there was a haughty-looking boy with black hair and grey eyes. He seemed much younger than the rest of them and was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to look as menacing as the others. 

 

“Time for a little test,”� said Bellatrix, the cruel amusement apparent in her face. She stood in front of a seated girl who looked like she was about to be sick. The other four did the same, each positioning themselves before a fellow classmate. 

 

Bellatrix raised her wand and pointed it between the girl’s eyes, which were now wide with fear. The Slytherin boys followed suit.

 

If there was anyone sitting down who was not in a state of panic by now, they may have noticed that the Death Eaters’ eyes were not trained on the people before them, but rather on the dozen other students in the room. 

 

 “Now _don’t move_ ,”� Bellatrix whispered gently to her captive and to the room at large.

 

 “This won’t hurt a bit.”�

 

She took a huge breath and had only made the ‘CR’ sound of “CRUCIO”� when several people bolted for the door.

 

The five Slytherins all turned as one to face the group trying to escape. They were clustered at the door, realising too late that they were cornered, and that they had failed the test.

 

“Stupefy!”� the Death Eaters roared at them, and the teenagers immediately collapsed in a heap.

 

Bellatrix gave a triumphant shriek, and clapped her hands together, momentarily lost in her own sick pleasure. When she pulled herself together a minute later, she nodded to Regulus and Avery who levitated the bodies into the showers where they would be left until the end of the meeting.

 

The girl who had been sitting in front of Bellatrix was gulping down air and smiling weakly to herself. Snape noticed this and bending down he hissed coldly in her ear.

 

“You do realise that if no one had tried to run, she would have done it. Be thankful that your friends are cowards.”�


	16. Marauders and Meadowes

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER: - 

 

The girl who had been sitting in front of Bellatrix was gulping down air and smiling weakly to herself. Snape noticed this and bending down he hissed coldly in her ear.

 

“You do realise that if no one had tried to run, she would have done it. Be thankful that your friends are cowards.”� ____

 

CHAPTER 16

 

_ “Marauders and Meadowes”� _

 

 

She trailed her fingers across the spines of ancient tomes, enjoying the feeling of different bindings beneath her fingertips; leather, silk, fur — even human skin. 

 

There was a flash of gold and Lily felt a rush of air as something whizzed past her ear. 

 

“James, I know you could catch the Snitch in your sleep, so stop showing off and put it away,”� she said without looking around.

 

Surprisingly, nothing else whizzed past her ear after that.

 

“It’s really stuffy in here!”� came a voice from somewhere below Lily. “How can you stand that heat?”�

 

“You get used to it after a while. I hid a pair of shorts and a t-shirt under ‘H’ during the middle of fourth year, because I snuck in here so often for that Charms project Flitwick gave me.”� She laughed lightly while scanning the book titles. “Can you imagine being caught out of bed in those clothes? Any teacher would have known exactly what I was up to.”�

 

Lily couldn’t help but grin at the shocked silence that followed.

 

Removing _Al-kimia and_ _Osiris_ from its place on the shelf, she gently blew off the silver cobwebs that had swathed it like a garment. She dropped down to the floor and nestled the book in her lap. As she continued to examine the cover, which she knew for a fact was real skin; she began to speak in hushed tones.

 

“This book was created over two thousand years ago, by ancient Egyptian wizards. It is said that the authors were alchemists — you know what an alchemist is?”�

 

“Yes, I know. The Philosopher’s Stone and all that rubbish,”� answered James, rolling up his sleeves. He was sitting opposite Lily with his back against the wall. 

 

Lily’s head snapped around to stare at him, looking shocked. 

 

“ _Rubbish_? How can you call — oh, never mind,”� she muttered, remembering that the only topic James would debate was quidditch. 

 

“Well, anyway,”� shooting James a disappointed look from beneath her lashes, “These ancient Egyptians are said to have been alchemists, or rather, ex-alchemists, who had decided that they weren’t really interested in producing gold at all, but with immortality and age. Through their work they had come to the conclusion that immortality is flawed.”� 

 

“Wait --flawed? How is immortality flawed?”� asked James, getting interested.

 

“Most people, when they think of immortality, imagine existing in the same state forever and ever. You’ll notice I used the word ‘existing’ instead of ‘living’…”�

 

“Yeah, I was going to ask…”�  

 

“That’s because life isn’t about things staying the same, which is what traditional immortality is. Nicholas Flamel didn’t master the Philosopher’s Stone until old age, which meant that he got to live almost all of his natural life without the Elixir. But if he had created it in his twenties, he would have stayed that age forever.”�

 

James produced the snitch from his trouser pocket and held it in front of his face like a miniature fan; blowing his hair back and making it stick up worse than ever. 

 

“But how do you know that he wouldn’t have grown old as normal and _then_ lived forever?”�

 

“Well, there’s no actual proof,”� conceded Lily, “but there are records of a Spanish boy in the 11th century, a child prodigy, who came very close to creating the Philosopher’s Stone.”� 

 

She glanced at James to see if she was boring him, he seemed to sense her question and shook his head, gesturing for her to continue.

 

“A few wizarding historians believe that he actually did make the Stone, at age ten, and remained a child forever. But for one reason or another it wasn’t written about,”� her eyes sparkled, “or at least not in a way anyone ever expected.”� 

 

Lily continued, “It would probably help you understand better if I told you that the boy’s name was Pedro Gelida AbenpÃ¡ndo, which, I’m sure you’ll agree, is quite a mouthful. So he went by a shorter name…”�

 

“Peter Pan,”� breathed James, his eyes wide with amazement.

 

Lily could have hugged him for getting it so quickly. 

 

“The boy who never grew up was an alchemist,”� said Lily softly.

 

“But what’s so bad --”�

 

“- about being forever young?”� Lily finished.

 

James nodded. 

 

“That’s what I thought as well,”� she said, touching the embossed letters on the book cover.

 

“Being young for eternity would seem fantastic; I’m sure… for a while. But after a couple hundred years, wouldn’t Flamel have gotten sick of it? He would have wanted to age, and go on to live life at thirty, forty, and fifty, because life without change isn’t life at all.”�

 

Lily looked up from the book to find James watching her.

 

“So what did these Egyptian wizards do?”� he asked.

 

“They _created_ Aging Charms in the hope that when a person came to the end of their life, they could go back to birth, and live again and again, forever. Enjoying all aspects of life, good and bad, without the fear of death. Perfect immortality.”�

 

“Isn’t that just like using a really powerful time-turner?”�

 

Lily frowned. “What’s a time-turner? Oh -- you mean those new punctuality gadgets?”�

 

“Yeah,”� said James, “I don’t think the makers knew what they were getting themselves into with this. I mean, a Remembrall’s one thing, but the public release of a device that can turn back _time_?”� 

 

James shook his head and pocketed the golden snitch.

 

“No wonder the Ministry’s all over it.”�

 

The pair lapsed into silence, both pondering the possibility of time-travel for the average person.

 

“So, do you think this book will help us do that aging charm properly?”� 

 

Lily sighed.

 

“I hope so. It’s bound to come up in the practical exam.”�

 

James rested his head against the bookcase, listening to the distant footsteps of the main library. 

 

The footsteps became clearer; he could hear the distinct click of heels on polished wood. 

 

 

Someone was coming.

 

 

Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for Lily to be silent, hoping that whoever it was would pass by the Restricted Section and leave them alone.

 

The screeching of hinges and the clang of a gate slamming shut suggested that this person had other ideas.

 

James jumped slightly at the sound, “Put the book back and follow me,”� he murmured quickly to Lily.

 

“Why James? We’ve got every right to be here, it’s only six o’clock. Don’t worry. We’ve done nothing wrong,”� Lily whispered back, hoping to reassure him.

 

“Nothing wrong?”� He gave a lopsided grin. “You’re about to be caught in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts Library with a Marauder. That’s a crime in itself.”�

 

Lily snorted loudly, horrifying James who immediately tried to smother the sound by throwing his robes over her.

 

Muffled laughter burst forth from the woollen lump, which began to shake beneath his arms. 

 

James’ mouth curled into a smile as he scolded the bundle, “I cannot believe you, Lily Evans. First you’re Miss Prim and Proper, never breaking any rules, and now you’re sitting here, practically _wetting_ yourself with laughter as Madam Pince, or — Merlin forbid — McGonagallapproaches.”�

 

The mound jiggled still more violently and James had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

 

Deciding that he had better head this person off rather than let them discover the Head Girl giggling insanely beneath a set of robes, James stood up.

 

Even though he knew it would set her off again, James bent down quickly and whispered to where he guessed Lily’s face was.

 

“You look like a drunken Dementor, do you know that?”�

 

He took the explosion of chuckles as assent, and strode quickly down to the end of the aisle, where he almost ploughed into --

 

“Professor McGonagall! Fancy meeting you here!”� he cried with exaggerated delight, throwing his arms wide.

 

The Gryffindor Head of House responded with a thin-lipped smile, an improvement to the cold manner with which she had been treating James since that night on the quidditch pitch. 

She was wearing a thick winter cloak, seemingly unaffected by the heat of the Restricted Section, and James wondered how much time she had spent there in her own schooldays.

 

“Potter, you are to go to the Headmaster’s office, there’s someone there to see you.”�

 

The grin melted off James’ face.

 

Without another word, Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and marched out of the library. James followed a few moments later.

 

Catching up with her quick strides, he asked, “Er- may I enquire, um, who it is?”�

 

The professor’s eyes narrowed behind her square-framed glasses, and she gave him a glare out of the corner of her eye, as though she expected James to know.

 

“Someone from the Ministry of Magic, I assume,”� she replied curtly.

 

James felt a cold sweat break out all over his body.

He had completely forgotten McGonagall’s warning that someone from the Ministry would want to talk to him about Lily’s fall. A sudden sense of dread gripped him as he neared the stone gargoyle, thinking of the article that girl had written in the _Prophet_ and how many people must have read it, and _believed_ those lies.

 

Before he knew it, James was at the top of the moving staircase, in front of the polished oak door. He knocked and waited. He could make out two voices coming from within the office;

 

“I’ll let him in, Alastor --”�

 

Footsteps drew nearer, and James knew Dumbledore was on the other side of the door. The knob began to twist, but stopped as the other voice spoke—

 

“Ask him his security question! Quickly Dumbledore, ask him! If he’s an impostor, he’s seen too much already!”�

 

Dumbledore answered calmly, “He doesn’t have a security question. I didn’t think it necessary to --”�

 

“HE _WHAT_?!”�

 

The door suddenly swung open to reveal Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling merrily at James’ startled expression.

 

“Pro -- Professor Dumbledore,”� he managed, after clearing his throat.

 

 James’ gaze moved over to the room’s other occupant, who was standing in front of a large cabinet. He was a rugged-looking man with a thick mane of brown hair, and a heavily scarred face that Sirius would have paid to see. The man’s beady eyes followed James as he crossed the threshold and sat down, in front of Dumbledore’s desk. The Headmaster closed the door and sat down too, but the stranger remained standing.

 

James knew had seen the man somewhere before, but he just couldn’t remember where. 

 

Dumbledore smiled at him, “James, this is Alastor Moody.”�

 

James’ stomach dropped. 

 

Moody? Wasn’t he…?

 

“I’m an Auror,”� growled Moody.

 

_Oh dear Merlin, I’m done for._

__

Dumbledore watched him intently, saying, “There’s nothing to worry about, James. Mr. Moody would just like to ask you a few questions.”� 

 

Moody moved gingerly towards the desk, extracting a hip flash from deep within his heavy black robes, and for one terrifying moment James thought he was about to be given Veritaserum. Then Moody took a swig from it and put the flask back into a different pocket.

__

The Auror stopped directly in front of James and settled himself solidly on the edge of Dumbledore’s desk. He sat slightly sideways so that his cloak fell open to reveal two wands strapped to his left arm, and a miniature Sneakoscope, dangling like some sort of sinister pocket watch on the inside of his robes. 

 

James would have bet his broomstick that Moody’s Sneakoscope was tuned in to only Dumbledore’s office, so that there was no chance of any interference setting it off.

 

The Sneakoscope swayed tauntingly on its chain.

 

“Are you James Altair Potter?”� growled Moody.

 

“Yes.”�

 

The spinning top remained silent.

 

“Where were you at a quarter past ten on the morning of the 22nd of September?”�

 

“Here.”�

 

No whistling.

 

“Be more precise.”�

 

“At Hogwarts.”� 

 

Not a sound. 

 

“Where _exactly_?”�

 

“In the castle.”�

 

The gadget was still.

 

James had a thought- as long as he kept giving vague answers, and avoided telling outright falsehoods, the Sneakoscope wouldn’t go off. He might get out of this one after all…

 

“ _Where_ in the castle?”�

 

“Class--”�

 

“ _Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_ …”�

 

Fuck.

 

***

 

While James Potter was being interrogated in the tower that was Dumbledore’s office, three other students were preparing to do some interrogating of their own. 

 

“Sirius, can you explain it one more time? I just want to make sure you’re saying what I think you’re saying,”� asked Peter, who was sitting on his four-poster bed and cramming dung bombs into a worn satchel.

 

“Yes,”� spoke Remus on the floor, where he was lying flat on his stomach, looking underneath the beds, “I’d like to hear this again as well, Padfoot. Or rather, I’d like you to listen to yourself and hopefully realise how completely mad you sound.”�

 

Sirius was standing by the darkening window, tucking the rolled up Marauder’s Map into the waistband of his trousers and pulling his jumper down to hide it from view.

 

He gave his two friends an exasperated look and rolled his eyes, declaring grandly, “Oh unbelieving generation; how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?”�

 

“Shut up,”� said Remus, forgetting his search for a moment and frowning at Sirius angrily. “If my dad heard you joking around like that he’d give you a kicking, and then he’d get my mum to hex you.”�

 

Looking slightly put out, Sirius strolled into the middle of the dormitory, “Well, your dad’s not here is he? And besides,”� he shook his black hair out of his face, “quoting the Bible makes me sound brainy, that Jesus lad must have had to fight the women off with a stick.”�

 

He made a swinging motion as though beating away invisible admirers, not seeing Peter swirling his chubby index finger around his temple, and mouthing the word “CRAZY”� to Remus, who doubled up in silent laughter.

 

“So — seriously, Siri--”� Sirius’s eyes widened in dismay at the pun, “I mean, _Padfoot_ , why are we doing this?”� Peter finished.

 

“For the _last_ time,”� he said grimly, turning around, “I think Kreacher, my mother’s house elf, had something to do with Evans’ fall at the Quidditch Pitch last month. Why? Because a few weeks ago, she practically screamed when an elf came up to her in the kitchen — you saw her Moony,”� he shot at Remus, who nodded slowly. 

 

“She was in a right state,”� Sirius said to Peter. 

 

“But what makes you think that _Kreacher,_ of all elves, had something to do with it?”� demanded Remus in frustration.

 

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, a trait which he had no doubt picked up from James.

 

“Because Moony! She described him! She described him right down to the filthy rag he wears round his middle! She can’t have just imagined it!”�

 

“All house elves look the same to me,”� said Peter bluntly, shrugging. 

 

“It could have been a Hogwarts elf she seen, and how do you even know that she saw this elf at the pitch? This fear of house elves could be for some totally different reason, Padfoot!”� said Remus.

 

Sirius just shook his head repeatedly. “No — no! You don’t understand! I know it wasn’t an accident, and I’m sure Kreacher was part of it. That’s why I need to talk to Regulus, to ask him why he gave Kreacher the order to come to Hogwarts. He’s the only one here apart from me with any power over the little rat.”�

 

“And the idea that someone was already out to get Evans doesn’t make you feel just a little less guilty about what _you_ did? Knowing that something was going to happen sooner or later?”� asked Remus sharply, looking up at his friend.

 

Sirius’s grey eyes flashed, “What _we_ did Moony! The three of us! Together! And _no_ , it actually makes me feel worse thinking that I led her straight to them, she wouldn’t have been up there if it wasn’t for me!”�

 

He threw himself down onto his bed and punched his pillow so hard that feathers exploded out of the end. He buried his face into the mattress.

 

There were a few moments of silence, during which the expelled feathers floated softly to the floor.

 

 Sirius remained lying face down, his words barely audible as he spoke into the duvet.

 

“She could’ve died… I could’ve killed her… 

 

That’s two people in two years. First Snape, and now Evans — and it’s not even as if I hate her that much anyway…but I still almost murdered her. It’s like-- I can’t stop it…there’s just something rotten inside of me, and I can’t get it out.”�

 

There was a muffled sniff and he croaked,

 

“I’m going to end up in Azkaban with the rest of the psychopaths--”�

 

Remus was at his side in an instant, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders, forcing Sirius to look up and face him.

 

“You are not a psychopath,”� he said harshly.

 

Sirius avoided his eyes, but stared at a point over Remus’s left shoulder, his tear-stained face void of expression.

 

“DO YOU HEAR ME?”� Remus shook him violently. He glanced over to see Peter standing on the other side of Sirius’s bed, looking frightened at the sudden turn of events.

 

“I am,”� said Sirius miserably.

 

“NO, YOU’RE NOT,”� said Remus, glaring at him.

 

“You’re not, Sirius,”� whispered Peter, shaking his head sadly.

 

 “I _am_ ,”� he moaned, looking away.

 

“YOU’RE NOT,”� repeated Remus.

 

“I — AM!!!!!!”� 

 

Sirius gave a guttural roar, and shoved Remus off him; then stumbled to the other side of the room, where he collapsed in a heap against the door.

 

Remus and Peter stood rooted to the spot, both watching helplessly as the other boy fell to pieces on the floor.

 

 

Sirius’s sobs subsided after a few minutes. 

 

 

When he finally lifted his head to look at his friends, it was with cheeky grin on his face, as if the past ten minutes had all been just a hoax.

 

 

“Have you found the invisibility cloak yet Moony?”� asked Sirius gruffly, quickly wiping his face with his sleeve and standing up.

 

Remus watched him for a moment before answering, “I can’t find it. Prongs probably has it in the Heads dorm.”�

 

“Just leave it then, I don’t think we’ll need it. Wormtail, do you think we’ve got enough ammo in case of attack?”�

 

Peter held up the dung bomb-filled schoolbag in reply, as though he had forgotten how to speak.

 

“Right then, let’s go and see my little brother, shall we?”�

 

Sirius opened the dormitory door and started making his way briskly downstairs.

 

Remus and Peter exchanged a look, each wishing that James were there.

 

“Remus --”� began Peter, his face filled with worry.

 

But Remus just shook his head, muttering, “C’mon Peter.”�

 

And putting his hand on the smaller boy’s back, he ushered him from the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

 

***

 

Lily had remained in the Restricted Section for quite some time, not bothered in the slightest at James’s disappearance. 

 

She had realised in recent weeks that it was normal for James to be in one place in one instant, and gone the next. She couldn’t explain it, but had simply come to accept it as one of James’s ticks; like redoing his tie at lunchtime -- or knocking seven times on the door before he entered their shared bathroom, even when it was empty.

 

Vanishing unexpectedly -- it was just something that he did.

 

She left the library right before closing, and let her feet guide her where they would, thoughts of immortality and time-travel still twirling in her mind. She couldn’t help imagining what she would do differently if she could start life anew…there were lots of things.

 

Wandering into the girls’ toilets on the second floor, she sat her book bag and James’s robes in a pile in the corner, and moved over to stand in front of a sink.  She filled her cupped hands with water from the tap, and splashed her face, realising how hot her skin was.

 

The door opened behind her, and Lily watched in the mirror as two young women entered.

 

“Hello Lily,”� they greeted.

 

“Hi Dorcas, Tabitha,”� she replied pleasantly, meeting both their reflected gazes before splashing her face once more.

 

They each went into a cubicle, but continued to chat loudly while they set about their business, as is custom for teenage girls in lavatories. 

 

“Did you see the look Black gave me today in Herbology?”�

 

“Yeah, you’d better stay away from her tomorrow, Root said we’re working with Devil’s Snare, and you know she’s going to try and stuff a bit in your robes or something.”�

 

“I just wish she was gone --”�

 

There was a gasp.

 

“I don’t mean _dead_ , Tabby. I just wish she’d left when that Rudolf did.”�

 

“It’s not Rudolf, it’s — oh, it’s — um…”�

 

“Rodolphus, ”� offered Lily suddenly, who couldn’t care less if she was butting in.

 

“What, Lily?”� called Dorcas.

 

“His name- its Rodolphus Lestrange.”�

 

“Oh yeah, that’s it!”�

 

The sound of water flushing down the toilet, and the click of a lock, Tabitha emerged from her stall. 

 

 She stood at the sink beside Lily’s, washing her hands. “Did you get the message about the Slug Club, Lily?”�

 

Lily nodded, tying her hair up with an elastic band. “Professor Slughorn told me in Potions yesterday. Halloween night, right?”�

 

“Yes, in his chambers.”� Shaking the water off her hands, Tabitha leaned towards Lily, her brown eyes shining with scandal. “Guess who didn’t get invited back this year?”�

 

“Who?”� enquired Lily, looking at the fair-haired girl.

 

“Tetley.”� 

 

“Rodgerick?”� she gasped in complete surprise. 

 

Tabitha smoothed down her skirt, pursing her lips together. “So I’ve heard.”�

 

Lily was nonplussed, “But — why? Last year Slughorn adored him, he couldn’t get enough of him.”�

 

“Well, the Tornados were top of the league last year, weren’t they? And Tetley’s dad was in the Prophet every week, talking about his _fantastic_ saves.”�

 

“And this year?”� asked Lily, already knowing the answer.

 

“They’ve lost every game so far.”�

 

“Poor Rodgerick,”� said Lily glumly.

 

“Yes, poor him,”� sounded Tabitha half-heartedly.

 

“Well, anyway… you know what this means, don’t you?”�

 

“Um — no.”�

 

“Slughorn’s going to be looking for a new favourite, isn’t he? And d’you know what I think Lily, I think it’s going to be you.”�

 

Lily began to argue but Tabitha cut her off —

 

“Oh Lily, look at yourself. You’re Head Girl, a total Charms whiz, liked by everyone…or at least everyone who matters, you’ve got _gorgeous_ looks… _and_ you were front-page news with that accident in September.”�

 

Lily was gobsmacked, not only because Tabitha seemed to think so highly of her…but also as most of it was true. 

 

Would Slughorn be asking her to sit beside him at his Halloween party?

 

There was a second flush, and Dorcas came out of her cubicle. 

 

Spotting Lily’s face, she smiled apologetically, “Tabitha, stop embarrassing Lily, can’t you see she’s mortified.”�

 

“What? I’m just telling it as --”� she looked at her watch “— Oh Merlin’s pants! It’s almost nine o’clock! I told dad I’d owl him before bed!”� She ran to the open door, “Are you coming Dorcas?”�

 

“I’ve got to wash my hands, you ninny,”� the black-haired girl laughed, “I’ll meet you back in the common room, in a while — don’t get caught!”�

 

Tabitha gave a hoot, “I’ll try, Mother!”� before disappearing down the corridor.

 

Dorcas caught Lily’s eye and grinned again. She seemed to do that a lot.

 

Dorcas Meadows’ swarthy skin, blue eyes, and pointed nose and chin — definitely mismatched in the mind’s eye, in reality complemented each other very well. 

 

Lily had always thought that Dorcas’s face mirrored her personality perfectly, a jumble of features that one thought shouldn’t go together, but did. Just like chess and Teen Witch beauty tips, complete opposites, but enjoyed equally by Dorcas. Or Arithmancy and Divination, two tricky subjects, each one thriving on the futility of the other, but both chosen by Dorcas to do at N.E.W.T level. 

 

The girl leant over the washbasin, rinsing her hands, her thick ponytail hanging over her shoulder.

 

Using her wand to dry her hands, Dorcas glanced at Lily, and in that look Lily recognised indecision in her eyes.

 

“Dorcas?”�

 

Appearing to throw caution to the winds, Dorcas blurted, “I’m really happy for you Lily.”�

 

“Thank you,”� was Lily’s automatic response, but she did a double take, “Wait — why are you happy for me?”�

 

“You and James… _finally_.”� 

 

Dorcas waited expectantly for Lily to agree with her, perhaps to give a sheepish smile and say, ‘Yes, I know, _at last_.’

 

Lily hadn’t a clue.

 

“I’m sorry, wha- ?”�

 

“I mean, I _knew_ that that thing at the start of the year with James didn’t _mean_ anything,”� Dorcas declared, putting her hands on her hips and shrugging nonchalantly. “Of course it didn’t, it was just a _snog_ …a drunken, twenty minute-long snog.”� She initiated a knowing smile, which Lily didn’t return. “I’m sure James told you about it,”� she shot at Lily.

 

Lily nodded.

 

_Why the hell am I nodding?_

__

“I knew it. Good old honest James -- he probably told you it was no big thing, right?”� Lily didn’t even have to nod this time, the other girl just ploughed on, “Yeah, well…it was a bit different for me, okay?”� 

 

She looked at Lily and smiled, even as she was about to bear her soul.

 

Dorcas sighed, “I mean, it’s not as if I’m in _love_ with him or anything, I just --”� she paused, turning away from Lily for the first time, “I just thought… _maybe_ , you know?”� she spoke to the wall.

 

Lily immediately understood.

 

“I know, Dorcas,”� said Lily gently, putting her hand on the taller girl’s shoulder. “And just to set the record straight, James and I…we’re not --”�

 

Dorcas stared back at Lily, “You’re not?”�

 

“No. So, if you want to find out if this ‘maybe’ is a ‘definitely’, its fine by me.”�

 

Dorcas blinked. 

 

“Really?”�

 

“Yes, really,”� Lily smiled.

 

Dorcas put her hands over her face, “Oh Merlin. I’ve just made a fool out of myself, haven’t I?”� 

 

It seemed that she couldn’t stop the laughter that poured forth from her mouth like bubbles, as she peered between her fingers at Lily. 

 

Lily pulled her hands away, and looked Dorcas straight in the eye;

 

“Not at all, Dorcas. Not at all.”�

 

The dark-haired girl took a deep breath and gave a slight nod.

 

Feeling pleased that she had helped someone feel better, Lily moved over to the corner to collect her bag and James’ robes. She saw Dorcas take a glance at the black bundle and then at Lily, probably wondering why she had two sets of robes, but she didn’t say anything.

 

The girls’ journey back to Gryffindor tower took longer than normal, since Dorcas kept on begging Lily to make detours to all sorts of strange places, professing that the castle looked so much more inviting at night time. And it did, agreed Lily silently. 

In the dark, one could almost feel the magic of the place come alive, even the most unadventurous student would be itching to explore it.

 

“But Filch can’t do anything as long as we’ve got _this_ with us,”� Dorcas gave Lily’s Head Girl badge a quick tap.  

 

Lily, however, refused point blank to go wandering when she had Charms first thing, but promised a disappointed Dorcas that she would sometime.

 

“Oh —Lily,”� Dorcas clicked her fingers as they reached the Fat Lady, suddenly remembering something, “The thing I wanted to tell you, before I dragged you off to the Heartbreak Hotel--”� she cringed faintly, “–was that I was down at the Quidditch Pitch last night, and--”� she broke off as the painting shifted in her seat.

 

Pulling Lily closer, she continued quietly, “And on the door of Wright’s office, the timetable said that Slytherin had booked the pitch for practice. But the place was deserted. I walked over to the Slytherin changing rooms and the door was locked.”� She looked at Lily before going on, “In class, do you ever get a little tingly feeling in your fingertips after touching a charmed object?”�

 

“Yes,”� nodded Lily, who had up until that moment thought she was the only one.

 

“After putting my hand on that door last night, my fingers were _numb_.”�

 

Lily’s eyes widened. 

 

“Someone charmed the shit out of that door, and I can think of only one reason why,”� the other girl muttered.

 

“ _Dorcas_ …”� Lily began warningly, “Please be careful before you start supposing things.”�

 

Dorcas’s mouth fell open in outrage, but Lily pressed on nonetheless; “I know what you’re thinking, because _I’m_ thinking it too. But I can’t afford to blow this out of proportion, lest I’m wrong, and then what if the real thing comes along? I’ll just be the Muggleborn who cried ‘Death Eater’.”�

 

Dorcas nodded grimly. “I know, Lily, don’t worry about me starting any rumours — that’s Tabby’s department,”� she added jokingly. “Besides, the Slytherins do enough damage to their reputation by themselves, they don’t need my help.”�

 

“Thank you,”� replied Lily with complete sincerity. “Though I will think about what you’ve told me. And if I think it becomes something to be concerned about, I’ll go straight to Dumbledore.”�

 

Dorcas grinned. “ _That’s_ why you’re Head Girl; diplomacy is in your veins.”�

 

“See you tomorrow, Dorcas,”� said Lily, starting down the corridor to the Heads dormitories.

 

She had only made a few steps when she heard,

 

“Lily!”�

 

She turned around to look at Dorcas, who seemed embarrassed.

 

“Please don’t say anything to Ja--”�

 

“I won’t,”� said Lily, “But only if you tell me why _you_ were at the Quidditch Pitch last night.”�

 

The girl’s tanned skin flushed dark pink. “I thought that was obvious.”�

 

“Oh,”� Lily bit her lip, smiling sympathetically, “We had to go to a Prefect meeting, so he wouldn’t have been able to practice…”�

 

She trailed off into an awkward silence. 

 

“So, er…goodnight, Lily.”�

 

“Get to your common room, Miss Meadowes, before I start taking points,”� barked Lily in imitation of McGonagall.

 

“Ay ay, Captain!”� called Dorcas with a salute.

 

Lily walked on to the entrance to her dormitory, and after saying the new password, “ _Kneazles_ ”�, clambered in through the portrait hole.

 

She was just thinking about what a lovely couple James and Dorcas would make, when she spotted the boy in question lying asleep on the sofa, looking as though that evening’s disappearing act had taken its toll on him.

 

Lily dropped her bundle into the nearest armchair, and moved forward to pick James’s glasses off the floor.

 

She sat them on top of the coffee table, and upon glancing around once more, connected with a pair of brown eyes that were watching her drowsily.

 

“’Lo, Lily,”� James mumbled. Then he smiled.

 

All thoughts of Dorcas flew from her mind.


	17. Not Everyone Wants A Pair of Ruby Red Slippers

** PROVING ME WRONG **

 

LAST CHAPTER: - 

 

“’Lo, Lily,”� James mumbled. Then he smiled.

 

All thoughts of Dorcas flew from her mind.

____

 

CHAPTER 17

 

_ “Not Everyone Wants A Pair of Ruby Red Slippers”� _

_ _

 

James could tell she was smiling back at him, even without his glasses.

He had been having a bad dream, but what it was about he couldn’t say. The memory of it was already slipping away with every second that Lily smiled, along with the twisting feeling in his gut that he had done something wrong.  But James supposed that he should be used to that feeling by now.

He didn’t care to think about it, in any case, he just wanted to enjoy the fact that Lily wasn’t frowning or crying, and that he wasn’t either, for that matter.

“It’s been a long day,”� the redhead murmured to herself.She couldn’t help thinking about how much homework she would have to do in her free period tomorrow morning. When she had asked James for his Transfiguration notes to revise for their end-of-topic test he’d bluntly told her that he didn’t take notes in that class. “Lucky for some,”� Lily had thought with grudging admiration.

And she _still_ hadn’t found out what she was doing wrong with that Aging Charm; the book of _Al-kimia and Osiris_ was fascinating but completely useless for what she wanted. Lily knew that she ought to ask Flitwick tomorrow, but she would really rather not. She had gotten this far in her charmwork without needing any help, and the professor usually left her to her own devices in his classes. She didn’t want that liberty removed because Flitwick thought her to be struggling on a rudimentary spell. She decided that she would strive on and if by next week…if by next week she hadn’t solved the problem, she would be forced to inform her professor.

 

James yawned loudly, like a lion on a natural history programme, and a moment later Lily found herself yawning too. 

“Yawns are contagious, you know,”� they said at the same time, and they both laughed. 

Lily raised her arms and stretched indolently, arching her back and enjoying the warmth of the fire on the backs of her legs, before dropping her arms to her sides and moving to gather her robes and her bag from the armchair. 

 She could feel his eyes on her until she turned round, and indicated the second bundle; “I brought your robes back for you, James… _James_?”�

James lifted his eyes to look at her face, “Yeah?”�

“Your robes,”� Lily repeated.

“Oh- thanks.”� He put his glasses on and stood up. 

Lily kicked off her shoes, and started to make her way up to her bedroom. 

“G’night, Lily.”�“Night, James.”�

She reached the top and unlocked her door with a word, but stood for a moment wondering whether she should tell James what Dorcas Meadows had said about the Slytherins at the quidditch pitch.

“Evans?”� he called up, hearing her pause on the landing.

She looked around at him, down at the bottom of the staircase.“…Potter?”�

 “Something on your mind?”� he asked, blinking to try to shake off his drowsiness.

Lily pushed open her door. “…Ye- _No_ ,”� she glanced over her shoulder at him, “No, it’s okay. It’s not so important that I have to tell you right now, ask me tomorrow.”� She walked into her room and dumped her things onto her desk.

“Are you sure?”� she heard him shout up.

Lily slipped back out onto the wooden landing in her socked feet and nodded, “I’m just too tired to discuss conspiracy theories right now, James,”� she said honestly.                    

James’s face fell in disappointment, “That’s just cruel, Evans. To pique my curiosity and then leave me hanging ‘til tomorrow?”� He shook his head in mock dejection. “I won’t be able to sleep now, I’ll be up all night wondering what dastardly schemes you’ve uncovered.”�

Lily snorted, “You won’t be going to sleep for a while anyway, after napping all evening.”� She paused, and then with genuine enthusiasm said, “Maybe you could start your DADA homework! Since you’re awake.”� She couldn’t help but laughing at the look of dismay on James’s face at this suggestion. 

She turned away, “Night, James”� and went back into her bedroom. 

 

James stood at the bottom of the stairs for a few seconds, before he went and flopped onto the sofa once more. Staring into the fire, he vaguely reckoned that Lily’s hair was a much prettier shade than the flames in the hearth. 

Then a strange notion rose to the forefront of his mind. 

_He fancied Lily Evans_.

James gave a loud snort and turned onto his back, shaking his head at the sheer randomness of it. He closed his eyes, trying to think about something else but seconds later burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that he ended up rolling on the sofa clutching his stomach, he was still quietly chortling at the idea fifteen minutes later. But then James thought of her- how she looked when she smiled, and how incredible he felt when she smiled, especially when she was smiling _at him_.

He sat bolt upright on the settee, his stomach still squirming pleasantly at the thought. Merlin, it was true. He _did_. 

That explained a lot. 

Leaning forward uncertainly, he tried the words out on his tongue. “I fancy Lily Evans?”� he whispered. He raised his eyebrows, as though amazed that he had not been struck by lightning. 

Next he tried, “I fancy _Evans_?”� But immediately a look of revulsion appeared on his face, he didn’t like the sound of that at all. Still grimacing, he reluctantly tried another.

“I like Lily,”� he breathed. He blinked a few times, and with the corners of his mouth twitching he repeated the words. He murmured, with a bit more volume, “I like Lily.”� He grinned lopsidedly. He liked the sound of that… he liked the sound of that a lot.

He _liked_ Lily.

Falling back onto the cushions, he took his wand out of his pocket and quickly transfigured a cobweb on the ceiling into the words ‘I LIKE LILY’ before sending them whizzing round the room. He watched the progress of the letters, which glittered red and green, with a daft smile on his face. He didn’t know what he was going to do as regards this amazing revelation, tell her, he supposed. Sometime soon, he decided, tomorrow, first thing. Then it occurred to him that she might even feel the same way about him. If it were possible, his spirits rose even higher at the thought.

He was just imagining he and Lily going to the Seventh Year Formal together when he realised that his flashing words were nowhere to be seen. He got off the sofa to go and look for them; he wouldn’t want to lose them, ever. Apart from being a nice bit of magic, good enough to use for his Transfiguration coursework, they were special to him. James muttered, “Accio words”� and waited expectantly. But nothing arrived. He cursed his own emotions, for it appeared that in his elation, James had put a little too much of himself into the cobweb. He’d given it had a mind of its own, and at this moment it was stubbornly choosing not to answer his summons. He went and checked the fire, hoping the poor little phrase hadn’t drifted in and been burned to a cinder, it was only made of cobwebs after all. Thankfully, after he put out the fire and cleaned the grate, there was no trace of a letter to be found amongst the ashes. He walked to the bottom of his stairs and looked up to his bedroom door, but saw nothing. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a glitter of green on the opposite side of the room. The ‘I LIKE LILY’ was hovering halfway up the girl-in-question’s staircase, twinkling playfully at James. “Got you,”� he murmured, taking off his shoes and making his way silently towards the stairs. He was just about to put a foot on the bottom step when he froze, thinking. Could Lily’s stairs be like those leading to the girl’s dormitories? Charmed to keep the ‘untrustworthy’ boys away? Well, James thought, there’s only one way to know. He put his right foot solidly on the bottom stair. 

Immediately a loud klaxon sounded, but rather than turning into a slide, each step flattened into the next, then the entire staircase began moving fast, like a hyper-speed conveyer belt. The glittering words had by this time, moved further up the stairs, and James knew that if the phrase had been given a voice, it would be giggling right now. James watched the moving steps, like one would watch a skipping rope before jumping in. It wouldn’t be impossible to get up the stairs, he mused, not a very fail-safe way of keeping the Head Boy and Head Girl out of each other’s bedrooms. He had a sudden mental image that caused his cheeks to flush. He grinned ruefully. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, trying to get up there, he thought. He might be glad of the practice soon enough.

 He silenced the klaxon with a spell, and ran at the conveyer belt, getting about halfway up the stairs before tripping and being carried back down to the bottom. He tried again and again, each time getting a little further, but still ending up back on the common room floor. Panting with the effort, James shrewdly guessed that the purpose of the charmed stairs wasn’t to keep the Head Boy away from the Head Girl, but to make sure that by the time he reached her door, he was too tired to… _do_ anything. 

The ’I LIKE LILY’ was now flitting outside her door. James’s eyes gleamed with triumph as he said, “Accio Cleansweep.”� The broomstick came soaring down his staircase and stopped obediently beside him. James hopped on and rocketed up the Head Girl’s stairs, reaching out to grab the phrase. But he closed his fingers around air as the words dodged his hand. And after a glittering pirouette in midair, the phrase zoomed down, turned gracefully on its side, and slipped underneath Lily’s door.

James swore, scrambled off his broomstick and laid flat on his stomach, struggling to see through the gap between the door and floor. The room was pitch black; evidently the alarm hadn’t woken Lily. There was no sign of green or red anywhere on the floor, which meant that the words must have been hovering somewhere higher up. After several minutes of frantic but fruitless searching through the tiny crack under the door, he got to his feet, hopelessly trying “Alohamora”� on the door handle. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work. James didn’t even bother to brush the dust off his clothes before he clambered on his broom and flew miserably back down the stairs. 

There was no way he was going to get the words back tonight, he thought despairingly, and the possibility that Lily would see them first made him want to throw up. Of course he had been planning to tell her tomorrow morning anyway, but now the idea seemed stupid and risky. What if she laughed in his face? Or worse, what if she didn’t? What if she acted the way James himself did when rebuffing romantic advances, with a pitying smile and a consolatory ‘friends’ hug? James made a pained expression and put his head in his hands.

 

***

 

A scrawny boy of around eleven years old hurried down the steps to the dungeons; he had the pasty face of someone who had been recently ill, wheezing and puffing as he ran to reach the dormitories before the Statue went for a night time stroll, his hobnailed boots clattering noisily on the stone slabs like some sort of frenzied tap dance. 

He rounded the corner, and saw the backs of three older boys beside the entrance, conversing with Egon, the only moving statue in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and sentinel of the Slytherin common room. 

Although relieved to see that the Statue hadn’t left yet, the little boy continued to rush, having heard from classmates that Egon was twice as likely to wander off somewhere if he saw you coming. A second later he saw that the marble man was stepping off his pedestal, and the boy began to shout, “Hold up!”� 

The words died in his throat however, as the older boys, hearing his heavy footfalls, turned around to look at him, and he saw their red ties. 

**Gryffindors.**

He skidded to a halt. 

The boy had Potions and Herbology with the Gryffindors, and despite the constant warnings, had made friends with a couple of them. They were all right, he thought. A bit full of themselves, but all right. Except these lads blocking his path weren’t first years like him. These were big, tall, seventeen-year-old Gryffindors, who had been despising Slytherins for years. They wouldn’t care that he had mates in Gryffindor, or that he secretly believed James Potter was the best chaser he had ever seen. 

No, when they looked at him, they saw a snake. They saw a snake _every_ single time. 

Each of the young men stared at him for a few seconds, before returning to their conversation with Egon. It seemed to the boy that these Gryffindors had bigger fish to fry, and would hopefully let him off with a Leg-Locker curse or Jellylegs jinx. 

Seeing that none of the three had drawn a wand, the boy began to move forward slowly, his heart pounding, his feet dragging along the ground. A screechy drum roll reverberated around the dungeon with each shuffle of his boots. 

_“Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ump, Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ump.”�_

He was level with them, standing in front of Egon, who now had both feet firmly back in place on the plinth, his white eyes watching the boy with fascination. He leaned forward to whisper the password, the Statue blinking slowly as a small hand touched his arm. 

“Wait,”� said the sandy-haired Gryffindor, causing the little Slytherin to jump in alarm. 

The boy looked fearfully at the Gryffindor, a shimmer of sweat visible on his yellow forehead, and said, “What do you want?”� He tried to steady his breathing but to no avail, he continued to wheeze.

“Will you tell Regulus Black to come out here?”� said the fair-haired young man softly, taking a step towards him.

“I, I, I don’t know who he his,”� panted the little Slytherin as his chest tightened. “I don’t know what he loo— loo— looks like!”�

“Calm down,”� said the shortest Gryffindor, moving forward. “Don’t have a nervous breakdown, for Merlin’s sake.”�

The Slytherin could only gasp in response.

“He’s having an asthma attack, I think. Do either of you know what wizards use instead of an inhaler?”�

“What the hell is an inhaler?”�

“Never mind. Maybe this isn’t a good idea, Padfoot,”� said the sandy-haired boy, while turning to the black-haired Gryffindor whom had remained silent thus far, as the scrawny kid struggled for breath. “We should get this little boy to Madam Pomfrey, he’s turning blue.”�

“No,”� said the last Gryffindor. Then he strode forwards and grasped the little boy’s shoulders, staring coldly down into his waxen face. “Kid, oi, kid! Look at me!”� he said roughly, forcing the little Slytherin to look straight into the his own bloodshot eyes. “He looks like me. Alright? Regulus Black looks like me. Tell him his brother’s here.”� 

The boy nodded, and when the Gryffindor let go of him, he staggered backwards, tripping over Egon’s pedestal. He jumped up quickly, and after gasping the password, stumbled into the door behind the statue.

He stopped as soon as he got inside and slumped against the wall, tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he choked the spell the matron had taught him, the one which freed his lungs. It took a quite a while for him to stop shaking, and longer for his breathing to return to normal, but after about ten minutes, the little Slytherin wiped his face and made his way down the tunnel to his common room.

 

When he arrived in the familiar green glow he spotted a few of his friends getting up and coming over to greet him with cries of, “You’re better!”� and “Back from the hospital wing!”� But they stopped in their tracks when they spotted his sweat-soaked hair and swollen eyes.

“Artie, what’s happened to you?”� a boy asked apprehensively.

He bit his lip and shook his head miserably, fearing that the tears would return if he stopped to explain. He walked on, towards the corner where the older students sat. He immediately recognised Regulus Black. He looked about fourteen and was lounging in an armchair seeming bored, his grey eyes haughtily surveying the room as he listened to the girl, who the boy knew was a seventh year prefect, talk.

“ — wants us to have another one before Christmas holidays.”� The girl paused and watched the little first year approach through her hooded eyes.

 “Yes?”� she asked delicately, and everyone in the group turned to look at him; he could feel people behind him watching as well. 

“I have a message for Regulus Black,”� the little Slytherin whispered, feeling a threatening lump in his throat.

“Speak up,”� the girl said, smiling widely.

He spoke with a bit more volume this time, “I have a message for Regulus Black.”�

Regulus sat up in his seat and looked at the little boy with interest, sweeping his black hair out of his eyes. 

“Who is it from,”� said the seventh year girl in a baby voice, “some pathetic ickle Ravenclaw wondering why he didn’t owl her back?”� Everyone in the circle laughed and Regulus grinned smugly.

The boy didn’t smile, but said, “No, it’s from his brother.”�

The atmosphere in the room tensed instantly and the little first year felt several gazes move from him to the girl, who had sat up in her seat with a hateful expression on her face.  

Regulus’s face was blank, but there was a flicker of…something…in his stormy eyes. No one made a sound or moved a muscle. 

“And what did the bastard _say_?”� demanded the girl suddenly, making more than one person jump. 

“He wants to talk to you,”� the boy mumbled to Regulus, “He wants to talk to Regulus,”� he repeated to the girl. 

Regulus stood up quickly, but the girl screeched, “WAIT!”� She looked at the first year, “He’s here? He’s outside now?”� she said coarsely, her chest heaving slightly with excitement.

“Yes,”� he answered timorously. “They’re beside Egon.”�

The girl’s expression darkened, “There’s more than one?”� 

He nodded, “Three.”�

The girl looked around the group with an appraising glare, whilst her housemates waited with bated breath. Finally she nodded and said, “We could take them,”� and a savage cheer burst from the Slytherins. Wands were being drawn as well as some strange objects the little kid had never seen before, he heard one boy mutter excitedly to his friend, “I knew this would come in handy,”� as he put on a chunky silver bracelet which was encrusted with blood. His friend rolled his eyes and pulled his wand out of his back pocket.

“Hold it.”�

Someone the little boy hadn’t even realised was there stepped out of the shadows, his greasy black hair forming curtains around his pallid face. He stared at the girl, who seemed livid that he had decided to talk now. 

“Before you begin the massacre, I want to pose a question. What do you think Dumbledore will do if the entire house attacks three unsuspecting Gryffindors?”�

“Who cares,”� spat the dark-haired girl, digging her sharp fingernails into the leather of the chair. “It’s about time we put those Muggle-lovers in their place!”� 

The Slytherins roared in agreement, many getting to their feet. The girl smirked at the greasy-haired boy as she stood up and the group parted for her. The crowd pushed the little first year to one side, but he continued to watch the scene unfold from behind Regulus’s high-backed chair.

“I care!”� hissed the greasy-haired boy, baring his teeth. The girl turned her back on him and began to walk away. In a flash, the boy had non-verbally disarmed her and held her thin ebony wand in his palm. She spun round, with her thick black her whipping behind her, and her expression murderous. “SNAPE! YOU HALF-BLOOD BASTARD! GIVE ME BACK MY WAND!”�

Snape’s lip curled in disgust at her behaviour. Not taking his eyes off her, he tapped her wand with his own, and it vanished from his hand. 

The girl opened her mouth to screech again, but he cut across her. “Don’t you ever THINK? If we go out there and put three Gryffindors in the Hospital Wing, Dumbledore will have us expelled.”�

The girl rolled her eyes, and with flared nostrils she said, “Dumbledore can’t expel us, Snape. My uncle will — ”�  

“Dumbledore doesn’t give a house-elf’s head about your uncle or your aunt, Bellatrix!”� Snape whispered harshly. “The teachers are waiting for a reason to get rid of us, you especially. I don’t have a name to hide behind, neither do the others,”� he looked towards the rest of the group. “And I’m not willing to risk it, because we _need_ to stay at Hogwarts, we are of no use to Him if we’re gone.”� He gave her a cold and meaningful glare, and waited for her response.

Bellatrix was breathing heavily, her eyes narrowed to slits, but an unnatural smile was beginning to play across her scowling lips. She gave Snape the slightest of nods before saying to Regulus, whose face was still void of emotion, “Go out and talk to your brother, little cousin. Take the runt with you in case they try anything.”�

The little first year hadn’t even realised that she was talking about him before Regulus had taken a hold of his arm and was marching him towards the door. 

“Give him my love!”� Bellatrix called after their retreating backs. Her cackles followed the two of them all the way up the tunnel.

The two boys stopped at the entrance. Regulus gave him a push, “You first,”� he ordered with a stony expression on his face. After a useless pleading look at Regulus, the boy hesitantly pushed open the door and slipped out. 

Egon had left, so there was nothing to hide him from the gazes of the three Gryffindors still waiting in front of the plinth. They looked up at him. Regulus’s brother, the one who had grabbed him earlier, seemed to have calmed down.

“Is he — ”� began Regulus’s brother. But he never finished his question as Regulus stepped out behind the little Slytherin, a sneer fixed on his face.

“You wanted to speak with me, _traitor_?”� he said, taking hold of the boy’s arm again and walking into the middle of the corridor, keeping him by his side. The first year felt goosebumps popping up on his arms and on the back of his neck, he prayed that Black’s brother didn’t attack, as he knew that he would be the first to be hit.

“Why did you send Kreacher after the Head Girl?”� the Gryffindor demanded.            

Regulus faltered and his grip on the first year slackened,  “ — _What?_ ”�   

“I know Kreacher was here; I know he pushed Evans. Why’d you do it?”� said his brother. The little Slytherin couldn’t believe what he was hearing; these Gryffindors thought that Regulus Black tried to kill the Head Girl? It wasn’t James Potter, then?  The kid looked at the older boy, he could see that Regulus was as shocked by this accusation as he was. Regulus met his gaze, allowing the boy to see the bewilderment in his eyes…and the suspicion. 

“I didn’t tell anyone to do anything,”� replied Regulus, his cool faÃ§ade back in place. Then he added with a bit more confidence, “And even if I _did_ …you don’t have any proof, or else you wouldn’t be here. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”�

  He turned his back on the Gryffindors and moved to the entrance with the first year, “Is that all?”� he asked his brother disdainfully over his shoulder.

The Gryffindor was seething, “You’re a lying little snake. Did Bella put you up to it?”� he said, and the little boy saw his housemate’s eyes widen.

“Regulus,”� said the sandy-haired boy grimly, “We know it was you, it doesn’t matter who put you up to it or what proof we have. What we want to know is… are you going to finish what you started?”�

The first year didn’t know where Regulus got the courage to say what he said next. He turned around to face them and smirked, “That’s for me to know and for you to spend the next few months worrying about, isn’t it?”� He grinned cruelly. “I think we’re finished here.”�

Two of the Gryffindors began to walk away, but Regulus’s brother stood there, staring at him. He started to blink profusely and opened his mouth to speak…but then seemed to think better of it and turned to catch up with his friends. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot!”� Regulus shouted suddenly, “Bellatrix sends her love!”�

Only the short one looked back.

As soon as the Gryffindors had rounded the corner, Regulus let go of the kid and fell back against the wall, “It’s good to see you too, Sirius,”� he whispered. Then he frowned and was biting the inside of his cheek, ignoring the first year.

The little boy suddenly realised that he shouldn’t have heard any of that. “You’re going to Oblivate me now, aren’t you?”� he asked Regulus. 

To his surprise, Regulus laughed. “Why would I do that to my insurance?”� he said to him, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately. 

“Insurance?”� the first year asked anxiously, looking up at him.

Regulus knelt down and looked at him seriously. “I think I’m being set up,”� he said, “You’re the only proof I have of my innocence.”�

The boy didn’t understand what he was talking about. “You think the Gryffindors are going to frame you?”�

 Regulus shook his head. “No. But that doesn’t matter.”�

The first year was more confused than ever, but since Regulus didn’t seem half as terrifying as his older brother, he decided to ask another question. “But what can _I_ do? Why will people believe what I say, couldn’t I be lying?”�

“You’re right,”� nodded Regulus, “No one would believe you if you _said_ I didn’t do it, because you’re a Slytherin.”�

“Then how…?”� he asked.

“Tell me…um…?”� 

“Artie,”� supplied the first year.

Regulus grinned. “Tell me, Artie, do you know what a pensieve is?”�

 

***

 

On Thursday morning, Lily was pleasantly surprised to find James standing outside her door, waiting to go to breakfast with her. She ignored the fact that he had his broomstick in his hand and instead mentioned to him about the little glittering object zooming around her room. She had woken up to find the creature, if that was what it was, zipping around her head, moving so fast that she could barely make it out. James had one foot through the door before Lily had even finished the sentence, and quickly transfigured the twinkling blur into a cobweb for some unfathomable reason. Then he put it in his pocket.

On their way to the Great Hall, James said, “So are you going to tell me what this conspiracy theory is, then?”� 

Lily had to think for a moment to realise what he was talking about. Quickly casting _Muffliato_ , to avoid eavesdroppers, Lily told him about Dorcas Meadows at the quidditch pitch. 

James had no doubt as to who was responsible for the locked door and the deserted pitch. “It was Snape,”� he said to Lily, “I’m sure of it. I just never thought he’d have the ba - ”� Lily shot him a reproving look, “ — the nerve — to do something like this right under Dumbledore’s nose. But then again, Black is probably involved as well, she wouldn’t think twice about having a Death Eater meeting on school grounds.”� He held open a tapestry for Lily, and then followed her along a shortcut. “Actually, I think she’d get off on it…twisted bitch.”�  

Lily didn’t reprimand James for his language this time, because he was right. Bellatrix Black was twisted. As she walked Lily vividly recalled the threat Bellatrix had given her in September, _“It doesn’t matter if you’re a shrivelled old hag when He gets you, He will. Just know this Mudblood, when He does get you…I’ll be there.”�_

And only a few weeks later Lily had almost been killed at the quidditch pitch. Lily shuddered as she thought about the ugly elf shuffling towards her, though she knew that it couldn’t possibly be a real memory. 

Even so, Kreacher the house-elf, whether real or imagined, visited her in her dreams every night without fail. Sometimes he just looked at her, pure malevolence in his pale eyes, but other times he would click his twig-like fingers, sending scorching pain through her arms and legs, forcing her to let go, then she would fall. In her dreams no one ever found her, when she reached the bottom of steps in her dreams, she died.

James tentatively put a hand on Lily’s shoulder, “Are you alright?”� She nodded silently, shrugging his hand off, and continued walking.

“Snape and Black, they’ve been whispering together since the train,”� Lily told James, blind to his wounded expression. “But if we’re lucky it was only the first meeting and that gives us time to tell Dumbledore.”�

“I thought you told Meadowes that you would only go to Dumbledore if you thought it was something to be concerned about?”� asked James as they reached the entrance hall.

Lily looked at him. “It _is_ something to be concerned about, we both know that, and I’m sure Dorcas does too. But these castle walls have eyes and ears, and I think it’ll be better for us if it appears that I’m not going to go to Dumbledore right away.”�

The two of them entered the Great Hall, which had been lavishly decorated for tomorrow’s Halloween feast, and sat down in what had become their usual seats. Lily started buttering some toast but James didn’t feel like eating anything. He couldn’t eat, not now… not when he knew that sometime today he was going to have to tell Lily that he fancied her.

He had decided sometime during the night that he would do it. James knew that to not tell her would be to sign his own death warrant. The stress of worrying whether she had found out by other means would surely kill him; of that much he was sure. 

The post arrived, and James’s owl, Loki, swooped down to steal a bit of Lily’s toast before flying off to the Owlery to sleep. Lily laughed and asked James if he had trained his owl to take other people’s breakfasts rather than his own. James grinned and started to make a funny retort when a high-pitched whistling reached his ears. He looked up and spotted Alastor Moody sitting at the teachers’ table, his pocket Sneakoscope going haywire in his gnarled hand. 

“What’s Moody doing here?”� Lily wondered aloud, frowning. 

James suddenly remembered why he had woken up last night with that twisting feeling in his stomach. In his interrogation with Moody…he had been forced to tell him things…things that could very possibly reveal Lily’s secret. James grimaced; she was going to kill him.

“Er- Lily?”� he said, as the bell for classes began to ring. She looked at him. “You have a free period now, right?”�

“Yes,”� she replied, “And I have so much work to do it is _unbelievable_!”�

“Right, well, is there any way you could meet me in the common room at about ten o’clock? I need to talk to you about something.”� 

Her emerald eyes filled with worry, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”�

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just — don’t be late, okay?”� he said, getting up and swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Okay,”� she nodded, giving him a strange look.

 

Ten o’clock arrived and Lily was standing in her common room, panting after a sprint from the library. James was already waiting for her; he was sitting on the coffee table looking at his shoes. Lily sat down on the settee in front of him and crossed her legs.

 “Lily?”� he said finally, looking up at her.

“ _James_?”� she replied.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I was yesterday afternoon?”� he asked abruptly.

She was surprised at the peculiar question; usually they never mentioned his disappearances. Tilting her head to one side, she plainly surveyed his face and realised that he was anxious.

Lily met his eyes, “Are you going to tell me if I do?”� she asked slowly.

“Ask me,”� was his reply.

 Expecting the worst, she met his gaze and said, “Where did you go?”�

James was sorry to be the cause of that expression on the pretty girl’s face, the one she wore to steel herself against bad news. It was depressing to note that she had grown up to always expect the worst, and even more depressing to note that that was all he could offer her. He knew that in the next few minutes he may well destroy any hope he had of ever going out with Lily Evans, and wondered why life had to be so bloody difficult.

He sighed and answered her. “I went to Dumbledore’s office. To be interro- questioned by the Ministry — about your fall.”�

Lily knew what this meant. It meant that there was a possibility that someone other than James now knew about her home life. She almost forgot to breath.

He continued uncertainly, “There was an auror there… Alastor Moody- ”�

Lily’s face blanched, “ _Moody_?”� __

James looked up, “How- how do you know him?”� he asked warily.

 “He’s head of the auror training program in Kent,”� she answered in a whisper. “What did you tell him?”�

James was fighting the urge to panic. “He asked me about your fall, and he had that Sneakoscope with him, but Dumbledore couldn’t see it, so I couldn’t lie to him, and so I had to tell him why I wasn’t in class that morning in September…”� James looked quickly at Lily’s face before continuing, “…which meant that I had to explain about my fight with Remus and Sirius- ”�

 “Which meant that you had to tell him about me?”� spat Lily with a look of betrayal as she stood up.

 “Merlin, Lily,”� muttered James with a pained expression, and running a hand through his hair, “Don’t look at me like that…like I would sell you to Voldemort if I had the chance.”�

Lily folded her arms, and said darkly, “So did you?”�

He was silent.

“Did you tell Moody about me, James?”� she demanded.

James gave her an apologetic look before saying, “He knows about your back.”� 

 

Lily’s mouth fell open and she stared at James with an expression of agonising disbelief. When he didn’t say anything, her eyes left his face…and she realised it wasn’t a joke. She drew away from him, putting a distance between them, as she began to feel sick.

She clapped her trembling hands over her mouth as the tears began to fall. “Oh my God, Oh my God,”� she whimpered from behind her hands. “Oh my God, James, Oh my _God_ ,”� she sobbed, shaking her head. 

James got up and began to move towards her but Lily jumped back. Gasping between sobs, she cried, “Stay away from me! DON’T YOU REALISE WHAT YOU’VE DONE?”�

James was crying too now, reaching out to her, he begged, “Please Lily — it’s not that bad — he doesn’t know how it happened — ”� 

“It doesn’t matter, James! If he knows that I had severe problems with my back before my fall, he’ll never let me get past the physical exam in July! Thanks to you, I’m never going to become an Auror!”�

James felt a stab of pain in his heart. “Oh fuck, Lily. I didn’t know! I didn’t know! Please, please, don’t cry — ”�  

She tried to move away again but he caught her in his arms and pulled her close to him. “Please, Lily!”� he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _please_ , don’t — don’t leave…I can fix it, I’ll make it right. You’re going to be an Auror… you _are_ …”�

Lily pulled back from him to look into his eyes.

James had never wanted to kiss anybody more. 

A moment later her expression softened and she heaved a shaky sigh without removing her gaze from his face. 

James leaned closer, so close that he was able to count the freckles across the bridge of her nose.  “Lily, there’s something else I want to say as well,”� he said gently. He took a deep breath, “Lily, I really, _really_ li — ”� 

The bell rang. James froze, silently cursing the man who’d invented clocks. Then he reluctantly released her and stepped back. Lily wiped her face and picked up her bag, saying, “You can tell me later James, I really can’t miss the start of Herbology — we’re doing Devil’s Snare today.”�

James nodded silently, knowing that he had just missed his chance.

Lily noticed his glum expression and walked back over to him, placing her hand lightly on his shoulders. She sniffed, “I forgive you, James. No one knows how my back was hurt; I can make up a story to tell Dumbledore.”� She gave a watery smile, “And as you said, you’re going to help me fix things with Moody…”� She caught his eyes. “Everything is going to be fine.”�

 James grinned just enough to satisfy her. She dropped her hands and after telling him not to wait for her at lunch because she had to go to the library, she left the common room.

James retrieved his bag and gave the coffee table a hard kick, cursing. He shouldn’t have let her go, he should have held on and told her, and kissed her. He knew he would never get that moment back.

Never ever.

 

***

 

“Greta…Greta…GRETA!”�

“ _What_ , Caradoc? I’m a bit busy here — do you know the best way to trim a Devil’s Snare?”�

“Look! It’s — it’s!”�

“YES?”�

“ _Lumos solem_!”� 

“My eyes, my eyes! I’m blind! I _need_ my eyes Dearborn; it’s a bit difficult to see without them! What on earth did you just do?”�

There was a soft thud as something was dropped onto the earthy greenhouse floor.

“I just saved you from the most lethal hug ever, Greta!”� he proclaimed.

Greta unscrunched her eyes and squinted at the boy in front of her. “You what?”�

Caradoc nodded smugly towards the floor, where a huge tentacle of Devil’s Snare was lying motionless. Greta’s hazel eyes widened at the sight of it and she leapt back in terror.

“Oh my Godric!”� she gasped.

“Catchlove, what’s going on over there?”�

“Nothing, sir!”� she yelled to the professor. As soon as he looked away, Greta was flicking her wand and sending the plant flying at Caradoc’s head.

“Aaargh!”� he yelped as he threw his hands up in front of his face. 

“Hahaha- ahahaha!”� crowed the girl, holding her ribs. “That’s what you get for trying to blind me!”�

“I saved your life!”�

“Yeah, yeah! If you wanted to get rid of me, you could have just pushed me off the quidditch stands like everybody else- oh! _Fudge_! Sorry, Lily!”� she cried to the girl a few feet away from her. 

“Fudge? Someone calling me?”� came a pompous voice.

Caradoc and Greta shared an exasperated look. “No, Barnabas, I was just trying not to say the ‘F’ word, go back to work.”�

Caradoc sniggered, “I can’t believe you still call it the ‘F’ word. What age are you? It’s a good thing there’s no one here with the surname Sugar, though.”�

“Yes, _darling_?”�

“Shut up, Greta.”�

“Alrighty.”�

The silence was broken about twenty seconds later.

“Seriously, can’t you do something about your hair? I don’t know whether to kill it or lay my eggs in it.”�

“Hey!”� she patted her frizzy brown mane defensively. “This is fashionable this is! Funnily enough, I haven’t seen anyone with a red Mohawk in _Teen Witch_ recently!”�

“I thought you said it looked pink?”� he demanded. 

“I did say it looked pink, but it sort of defeats the purpose if you take it as a compliment, doesn’t it?”�

“So it’s not pink then?”�

“As pink as a post box.”�                                                 

“I don’t know what a post box is, but something tells me they’re not pink.”�

“So _that’s_ why you’re in Ravenclaw. Smart girl.”�

“I’m a boy, Greta.”�

“Toe- _may_ -toe, toe- _mah_ -toe.”�

“So, my hair’s crap then? Is that what you’re telling me?”�

“Well…”� she nodded.

“Lily! Are you finished? Good. Can you _please_ come up here for a sec?”�

The Head Girl got up from her table of neat Devil’s Snare slices, where Tabitha and Dorcas were sitting chatting, and made her way over to them. She smiled at them both. “Hi Greta, don’t worry about the quidditch stands thing, it was funny…Now, what seems to be the problem?”� she said, turning to Caradoc.

“My hair is a disaster. Can you fix it?”�

“What do you want me to do?”�

“I want to go natural again- ”� 

“What?”� Greta cut in laughing, “Those bloody ringlets! - ”�

“ _Yes_ , natural.”� He said coolly. “So can you do it, Lily?”�

“Of course, but…”� Lily coughed, “Um, Caradoc, I can’t remember that far back…what _is_ your proper colour?”�

“Dirty fair.”�

“Dirty fair! Mousy brown is more like it, Lily.”�

Lily swished her wand and murmured a few words…

“My head feels a lot warmer.”�

“That’s because you’ve got more hair. It actually looks…decent, for once. ”�

“Really?”� he patted his dark curls. 

Then Professor Root called, “Pack up now everyone! The bell’s about to go!”�

After glimpsing himself in the glass, he beamed. “Thanks, Lily. You roll!”�

“It’s ‘rock’, Caradoc. ‘You rock.’”�

He rolled his eyes and mimicked her, “Toe- _may_ -toe, toe- _mah_ -toe.”�

“Say, Lily?”� Greta began, her eyes sparkling, “What’s your favourite cheese?”�

“No! No, Lily! Don’t answer her! She keeps asking people that and won’t tell me why! It’s not right I tell you!”� He looked at Lily for support. “It’s unnatural for anyone to have such an interest in a dairy product! Especially cheese!”� 

“Brie, I think.”� Lily replied thoughtfully, despite Caradoc’s scream of, “Nooo!”�

Greta stuck out her tongue at the boy, whipped out her quill and scratched a note on a scrap of parchment. She ripped a square off and handed it to Lily.

“What’s this?”� asked Lily.

“It’s your ‘If-you-liked-that-cheese-then-you’ll-love-this-cheese’ memo.”�

Lily raised her eyebrows, “Oh. Montgomery’s Unpasteurised Cheddar?”�

“Oh yeah,”� Greta nodded reverently, “It’s mental.”�

“No — _no_ , you’re mental!”� he pointed at her, just as the bell rang. He shook his head regretfully at Lily; “I’ll take her off your hands now, before she tries to show you how to charm your own cheese. Come on, Greta!”� Caradoc grabbed her by the sleeve and pulled her away.

“Thanks for your contribution, Lily!”� the fuzzy-haired girl shouted as she was dragged.

“You’re welcome!”� 

 

***

 

James didn’t see Lily until after curfew that evening. He had had quidditch practice, which had gone really well he was pleased to note, and Lily had, something, on as well. Lily always had something on. 

He had been feeling more and more nauseous as the day progressed, still determined to tell her how he felt, even though it seemed the fates (“And the school timetable,”� he thought bitterly) were against him.

He was seated in the armchair in the common room with his feet propped up on the coffee table and a copy of _Which Broomstick?_ lying open on his lap. But he wasn’t reading it. He was putting all his efforts into keeping down his dinner, and the baking pumpkin smells wafting through the corridors didn’t help. Now that he thought about it, James wondered who had had the daft idea to try and get juice from a pumpkin. The portrait hole opened and Lily came in, and along with her came so many food smells that James was sure he was going to retch all over the glossy picture of the new Nimbus 1000.

“Are you ill, James?”� Lily asked him but he shook his head.

“You know what? I’m actually quite glad that Dumbledore and Moody know, it means that I can stop fretting about what they know and actually _do_ something to sort it out.”�

James gave her a dubious look.

“No, really. I’m not trying to make you feel better, Potter. I really mean it. I just feel, I don’t know, lighter or something. It’s good.”�

“So, what are you going to tell Dumbledore when he asks you about it? You know he will,”� James said.

“I was thinking of telling him that my cuts were just a glamour I was practising for Charms, and that you came into the bathroom…”� then she mumbled something.

“What was that Lily?”� enquired James shrewdly.

Lily sighed and continued with reluctance. “And that you came into the bathroom, _drunk_ , and believed that what you were seeing was real.”�

James sat up indignantly, “It was real! Dumbledore’s going to think I’m an alcoholic if you tell him that!”�

“You’re the one that got me into this mess, so I don’t think you have much say in the matter of what you’re addicted to in the Headmaster’s eyes,”� she replied tartly.

That shut James up. 

“Fine, tell him whatever you want.”� James said, shaking his head.

“Thanks. Oh, what did you want to tell me? You were about to say something earlier but the bell rang.”�

It’s now or never, James thought. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. “Lily, I like you.”�

Lily’s lips quirked into a smile. “Right, James.”� Then she got up and started taking books out of her bag.

James coughed, he wasn’t prepared for this, incredulity! “No, Lily, really,”� he tried again, “I like you.”� 

“ _Like_ ,”� he added for emphasis.

“You _are_ sick! Do you have a temperature? I think you’re delirious,”� Lily said shortly, holding her wand to his forehead.

“Lily, for Merlin’s sake, I’m not ill,”� James said, pushing the wand away. 

Lily knew he was serious when he didn’t let go of her hand. 

James fancied her? James Potter? _Potter_ fancied _her_??? It was a terrifying thought, mostly because it _didn’t_ terrify her. He was her friend, and she admitted, was far from looking like a toad. She supposed that the reason she wasn’t screaming right now was because she knew James, and had learned to trust him.

Then Lily’s logical side kicked in and she began to wonder if she should be feeling butterflies in her stomach, or a tingly sensation all over, because right now she felt nothing of the sort. Yes, her palms were sweaty, but she was in front of a blazing fire in full school uniform. Not exactly a universal sign of attraction.

 The next thing in her mind was Dorcas Meadowes, to whom Lily had sworn that there was nothing between her and James. And just like that, she knew what she had to do.

 “I’m sorry, James,”� she said softly, taking her hand out of his, “But, I just can’t. I’m sorry.”�

James knew she was going to reject him, even before he told her. It was impossible for him to imagine her returning his feelings. He should have kept his fat mouth shut, he thought angrily.

Just then the fire in the hearth turned emerald green, and Professor Dumbledore’s head, looking like a long bearded egg, appeared in the flames. Neither Lily nor James jumped, both being used to strange apparitions in fireplaces by now.

“Oh good, you’re still up. I thought I might have missed you.”� His twinkling blue eyes looked up at Lily, “Miss Evans, I would be much obliged if you would floo to my office in a few moments, I need to discuss some frivolous matters with you.”� 

It was apparent that Dumbledore had mixed up the words ‘frivolous’ and ‘serious’ in his mind.

“My back is already beginning to ache, so I shall get up now, and salvage my beard before it’s reduced to ashes. Mr. Potter- this may take a while, so there’s no need to await Miss Evans’s return. You should get some rest ahead of tomorrow’s Halloween feast, I hear it’s going to be excellent.”�

“Okay, Professor.”�

“Good night, James. Please follow me in a moment, Lily,”� he requested, before vanishing with a pop. The flames returned to normal.

“I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me so soon,”� Lily said, forgetting that there was now awkwardness between her and James.

“So am I going to wake up tomorrow and find Dumbledore looking at me funny? Are you going to tell him the ‘glamour story’?”� replied James rather stiffly.

 Lily felt the discomfort now. “I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m going to tell him. I’ve got so much on my mind, I’d even forgotten that tomorrow is Halloween, and I love Halloween normally- ”�

 “You’d better go.”�

“I know. Well, since I won’t see you ‘til the morning, Happy Halloween, James.”�

“You too.”�

Lily stepped up to the fireplace and took a little jar off the mantelpiece. She poured some floo powder into her hand and threw it into the fire, causing the flames to blaze bright green once more. She was about to step in when she paused and looked round at James.

“James, still friends?”� she asked uncertainly.

James grinned. “You shouldn’t have to ask. Of course we are. Now _go_ , Lily, before he sends out a search party.”�

Lily smiled and rolled her eyes. She stepped into the fireplace and yelled, “Dumbledore’s Office!”� and with a whoosh she was gone.

Leaving James alone with his thoughts.

 

***

 

Lily landed gracefully out of the fire, and after brushing the soot and ash off her robes, she sat down in front of Dumbledore’s desk. The headmaster was seated behind it in a large blue winged armchair, surveying Lily over his half-moon spectacles. She knew he was skilled in Legilimency, but when she had asked him about it once, Dumbledore had reassured her that under no circumstances would he probe into a student’s mind without his or her permission and a very good reason. 

“Lily, tell me about your back,”� he said calmly.

She tried to keep her face passive, deciding to stare at a rather large paper bag of sweets on the desk, as she answered. “I was practicing a glamour charm for Professor Flitwick in the bathroom in the Heads’ dormitory, and James Potter happened to come across me and believed the injuries to be real, sir.”� 

There was a pause.

“Do you know that your fall at the quidditch pitch in September wasn’t an accident, Lily?”�

Lily was stunned. “No, Professor, I didn’t…how do you- ?”�

“I have no proof, but if my suspicions are right, which they often are, Lord Voldemort tried to kill you.”�

“Voldemort? But- what has the war got to do with me? I’m not involved in it, I’ve done nothing to be targeted.”�

Dumbledore smiled warmly. “Your personality shines like a beacon, Lily. Your intelligence, integrity and courage, and particularly your blood, cause you stand out from the crowd. I believe you are being targeted because you are a Muggleborn and because you are also Head Girl of Hogwarts. Voldemort wishes to make an example of you.”�

Lily’s forehead creased in thought. An example? But she asked something entirely different. “So — so someone did push me, then? Or at least forced me to fall?”�

Dumbledore nodded gravely. 

“Well, he didn’t succeed,”� Lily said grimly, images of that Kreacher springing to mind. “I’m still here, Head Girl and Muggleborn to boot.”�

Dumbledore swallowed before he continued. “Lily, there’s a very good chance- that Voldemort will try again. You are by no means his most important objective, but I’m afraid his abhorrence of me will impel him to see this to the end.”�

“Until I’m dead,”� she said shakily.

Dumbledore sighed.

“Steps have already been taken to ensure your safety, Lily,”� he said. “Sources tell me that tomorrow is the perfect time for Voldemort’s followers to make another attempt on your life, so I have arranged for you to be sent home- ”�

Lily’s blood ran cold. 

“Pro- Professor, there, there’s no need to send me home for just one day,”� she stammered, her heart slamming against her ribcage.

“I agree...”�

Lily exhaled and visibly slumped in her seat, thanking every deity she had ever heard of.

“That is why you will return on Sunday evening rather than tomorrow.”�

Her mouth went dry. The dread that she’d believed she would never feel again gripped her, making her head spin and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

She _couldn’t_ go back there. She wouldn’t go back to that place.

“Professor Dumbledore,”� she managed to get out, “ _Please_ — I don’t have to go home, I can just stay in my dorm all weekend, and James will bring meals up to me.”�

“A portrait isn’t sufficient protection for you, Lily.”� Seeing her opening her mouth he added, “And neither is the Head Boy.”�

She began to panic. “But- but- what about m-my homework? How will I get it done, all — all my books are at Hogwarts.”�

“Your trunk had already been packed for you with all the necessary textbooks. If you are unable to complete an assignment, come to me on Sunday when you return and I will write a note to your subject professor.”�

Lily felt her hope slipping away, disappearing through her clenched fists like grains of sand… escaping, pouring through every crevice.

“I’m Head Girl!”� she cried desperately, “What message will it send to the school if I run away?”�

Dumbledore smiled, amused at her apparent pride. “It’s not considered cowardice if the Headmaster tells you to run, Lily.”�

Her entire body was trembling. She was planning to make a break for it, and claim insanity later, when Dumbledore looked up from his watch and offered her a sweet.

“Sherbet lemon?”� he asked, offering her the paper bag.

Lily mindlessly accepted it, and took a sweet, hoping it would overpower the taste of the bile now rising up at the back of her throat. Clutching the paper bag in her hands, Lily’s mind buzzed with all the possible excuses to get out of this office, so that she could go somewhere and hide until tomorrow evening.

Pretend you’re sick, she thought hysterically, go to the Hospital Wing. That wouldn’t be too hard, as Lily was very sure that she was going to throw up on Dumbledore’s carpet any second now.

She realised that the headmaster was murmuring under his breath, staring at his watch again. Lily looked up, straining to hear what he was saying.

 

_“Twenty three, twenty two, twenty one…twenty. Nineteen, eighteen…”�_

__

“Professor Dumbledore,”� Lily pleaded, praying that it only made her sound more sickly, “I — I don’t feel well. I think, I think I’m going to be sick!”� 

Dumbledore looked up in concern, “It’s not caused by magic, is it?”�

Lily was feeling an ache in her stomach now, and she clutched at it, still holding the paper bag. She shook her head, “No, I think — I don’t know what it is. Not magical, though.”�

The headmaster seemed relieved. He returned to his watch.

 

_“Seven, six, five, four…”�_

__

Lily opened her mouth to beg that she be allowed to go to Madam Pomfrey, and found that Dumbledore was already looking at her.

She felt a rough jerk from somewhere behind her navel. Then she was off in the whoosh of colour and sound, the sweet bag in her hands wrenching her along.

 

A second later her feet slammed violently into the ground sending shocks of pain up through her ankles and knees. Lily’s eyes widened in terror as she took in the dim surroundings.

 

She was home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                     


	18. The Howling Halloween

  
** PROVING ME WRONG **

CHAPTER 18

_“The Howling Halloween”�_

_ _   


Run, hide, go away, leave, disappear, flee, escape, go somewhere else, go _anywhere_ else, **GET OUT**.

 

Lily was in the hall, unbolting the front door and cursing as her trembling fingers fumbled the lock over and over again.

“ _Please God_ \- ”�

 With desperate relief she managed to slide the bolt across and undo the catch, throwing the door open wide so that moonlight spilled into the foyer, illuminating the gleaming white tiles on the floor and the bottom of the stairs. Lily stepped hurriedly over the threshold and pulled the door behind her. Her heels clicked loudly in the static air as she strode blindly down the garden path in the pitch black. Her hand grasped cool metal and she jerked open the gate, it swung round with a reverberating screech and clanged off the garden wall. Lily winced.

One of the upstairs rooms suddenly glowed to life.

Lily steadied the gate and stepped out past the too-tall hedges and onto the street. She closed it as quietly as she could and turned around to face the road.  A bitingly cold breeze whipped her hair around her face and set the trees leaning and bowing. The streetlamps were lit, and the terrace houses which stretched in both directions seemed to pulsate with a macabre orange light. High, narrow buildings with long, narrow gardens to match, each with its own bushes or walls or trees to keep the house fronts screened from the footpath. 

The streetlamp directly above her held her in a spotlight. Lily wrapped her robes tightly around her and scraped her hair back into a ponytail, shoving doubt and fear out of her mind. She had her wand. She couldn’t legally use it yet. But she had it.

A hand shot out of the darkness and snatched her shoulder. Lily shrieked and yanked out of the grip, staggering back from the gate. The person scuffled forward and craned over into the street, revealed by the glow.

“Lily?”� whispered Petunia with wide eyes.

Lily couldn’t speak. She stared in astonishment at Petunia, - as the streetlamp cast its dusty orange sheen upon her blonde hair and the hedges veiled the colour of her blue eyes in shadow…

It was amazing how much she looked like their mother.    

“ _What are you doing here_?”� demanded her older sister, no longer resembling anyone but herself.

Lily’s eyes scanned up and down the street, deciding what to do next, “I was sent home for Halloween-”� she looked at Petunia, “but I’m not staying, I’m going back,”� she stated firmly.

Petunia pressed her lips into a thin line, glaring at Lily.

Lily snapped, “What exactly is your problem, Petunia? I haven’t even been back long enough to disgust you with my _abnormality_ , but you still- ”�

“Pet? What are you doing?”� called a male voice from the Evans’s front door; causing Lily instantly shrank back out of the spotlight, pressing herself flat against the wall.

Petunia didn’t answer the call. Wrapped in a blue dressing gown, her folded arms appeared to tighten as she beadily watched her petrified sister, biting her lip in agitation.

“PET? What’s going on down there?”� yelled the person again from the front door.

Lily looked at her sister, and shook her head pleadingly in the dark. In a whisper she begged, “Petunia, please, _please_ — don’t, don’t tell him I’m here. I’m going back to school, please Petty… _let me go._ ”�

Petunia stared coldly at her sister, unmoved. Her neck stiffened slightly.

A third shout, more irritated this time, “PETUNIA! What are you doing?”� 

Lily saw her sister flinch at the words and the sisters locked gazes.

“I am _sick_ of being alone in this!”� Petunia hissed at her.

“ _No, Petunia, no_!”�

Without taking her eyes off her younger sister, Petunia turned towards the light and called,

“Dad, Lily’s home!”�

 

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Lily was seated on the sofa in the Evans’s living room, trying not to glower at the man who sat opposite her. Actually, she avoided looking at him at all. In the few seconds she did look at him, Lily noticed that he had grown his moustache again. Petunia stood hovering between them, her hands fluttering in and out of the pockets of her dressing gown.

Graham turned his dark brown head towards his oldest daughter, blue eyes meeting blue, “Petty, you go on up to bed,”� he said gently. 

Lily stiffened in her seat, but she ignored Petunia’s hesitant look at her, choosing instead to tighten her grip on her wand, still concealed in her robes.

The nineteen-year-old girl left the room without a word, ascended the stairs silently, and banged her door shut.

Graham didn’t flinch at the noise, but his forehead creased slightly. He moved forwards in his seat so that, had Lily done the same, they would have been able to hold hands. Lily’s face was turned to the right, gazing through to the hall, ignoring her father.

“Lily,”� he began tentatively. The softness of his tone didn’t surprise Lily. She had heard all of this before; she could recite it in her head…

_I’m completely disgusted with myself._

“I’ve been completely disgusted with myself these past two months, love. I couldn’t even look in the mirror, I was afraid of what I would see. I’m sickened that I could hurt my own children, my two girls, so- so _badly_.”�

_I know I have no right to ask, but how are you now?_

“How are you? How — how were you, getting back to school? Is _everything_ all right now? I know I don’t even deserve an answer to that, but…you look healthy. You’re more beautiful every time I see you.”�

Lily’s stomach churned with anger and loathing.

_Can you ever forgive me?_

“What I did was unforgivable, but is there anyway that you could ever possibly forgive me for what I have done to you and Petunia? Put it behind us and start again?”�

Her green eyes narrowed in seething incredulity at the tiles on the hall floor.

_Things will be different from now on._ Lily’s eyes prickled. She thought of James, and wondered whether he had ever went through anything like this, but she knew the answer was no. He had a normal life. 

“I promise, I swear on my own life, I swear to God, that I will change. For the better.”� He reached out and touched Lily’s hands, which were folded in her lap. “Things are going to be better for us, Lils… things are going to be different.”�

Lily felt a hot lump in her throat as she sat there, blinking furiously into the blurred hall. 

She _hated_ this. She hated this more than she hated the punches, the kicks, the slaps, and the names. She hated it when he said such stupid things, she hated him for saying them to her every time, and she hated him for giving her _hope_ that things would be different.

But most of all she hated herself for wanting to believe him. 

 

She felt him crouch in front of her, and he squeezed her hand tightly. She didn’t move her hand but didn’t look around either. Against her icy skin his touch was blistering, serving to remind her of her mother for the second time that night, and how her hands were always warm. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat but it wouldn’t budge. She didn’t move to wipe away the thick tears which rolled slowly down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. She felt overwhelmed with emotion, her heart swelling with grief for the family she could have had. And her body shuddered as she released the first sob, gasping for something more than oxygen. 

He was beside her on the sofa and held her closely to him, rocking her gently. She didn’t protest, only crying louder, limp as she lay in his arms, sobbing the words, “ _I hate you, Dad,_ ”� into his chest. 

 

***

 

James tossed in his bed again. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking. He thought about Lily all of the time, but it was at night that he thought about Sirius, and Remus, and Peter. He knew that things wouldn’t seem so bad if he still had them to take the piss out of him, but he didn’t. And without them, tomorrow looked bleak. 

He turned on his side, pushing away the thought that they might never be friends again. They had fallen out for a full two weeks last year, after the Snape and Moony incident, but it had now been over a month since James had spoken with any of them. He wasn’t even that angry with them anymore, not really, for going behind his back. He didn’t blame Sirius for what happened to Lily, but every time he decided to go and make peace with the boy, who was closer to him than a brother, he thought about Lily dying there at the quidditch pitch. And even though he knew, he _knew_ it wasn’t Sirius’s fault, the thought of Lily being — _gone_ — scared him so much that he would stop in his tracks, inadvertently catching the boy’s attention. And then a second later that same fear would make him turn around and resolutely walk away from his best friend. 

James was worried about tomorrow night, and whether they would be about to manage without him. He doubted it, and already an idea was forming in his mind to follow them, and watch them, just in case things got out of hand.

Wondering whether Lily was back from Dumbledore’s office yet, James rolled over for the last time, turning his back on the open window, and on the silvery orb which was almost, but not yet completely, full. 

 

***

 

Lily lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling she couldn’t see. She was flat on her back in her bed, arms and legs sprawling in different directions. Her body was so weighed down with exhaustion she felt as if she was going to sink into the mattress and never be seen again. She was trying to breathe as quietly as she could, not for fear of waking the other two people in the house, no. She was breathing quietly so that she could hear her heartbeat. 

She rested her hand lightly on her chest and she felt the muscle pumping beneath her palm. The steady rhythm soothed her and her racing thoughts slowed to match its pace.

Lily didn’t know what was going to happen tomorrow. Tonight - her breaking down like that - she hadn’t meant for it to happen, and she hadn’t expected it to happen…until her dad started making those awful promises. Promises that he wouldn’t, rather than couldn’t, keep. But it was only after she thought of James that it had all become too much for her to bear. It was always like that, Lily realised; she could usually think about her life with a certain amount of apathy, but when someone else’s life invaded her mind, and she had something to compare her own to…that’s when the dark thoughts arose.

Lily couldn’t even imagine trying to explain it to someone else; James wouldn’t understand…that the reason Lily didn’t have any friends was because it was easier for her that way. Friends only served to highlight the things she didn’t have, or used to have, and feeling sorry for herself stopped her from getting on with her life. Only a person like Lily would see it like that, that although friends could offer their ‘support’ in such situations, the fact that they were undeniably shielded from such troubles, while others were thrust into them, only made living through them seem that much worse.

She didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. She was unsure if her dad believed her to have forgiven him, because she _hadn’t_. She had let him hold her hand and hug her in the living room because that was what she had needed then. Even though he was the person who had hurt her the most, Lily had needed him for those few minutes, in spite of everything. For those few minutes, she was just a teenage girl, and he was just a father, comforting his daughter as best he could.

A firework went off in the street; reminding Lily what day it was tomorrow. Halloween. She didn’t know why Petunia was home, but prayed that she would stay until Sunday. If Lily was lucky, tomorrow would pass without any excitement, and her father would stick to his word. If she was lucky. 

But Lily wasn’t an optimist, or stupid. She was well aware, even as her eyelids at last began to droop, that she would never make it to Sunday untouched.

 

It seemed stupid that only a few hours ago she had been worried whether or not James Potter _really_ fancied her. 

 

***

 

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, messy-haired but fully dressed with his bag over one shoulder, as he leant against the banister. “Lily!”� he called up.

No answer. 

James looked at his watch and saw that breakfast would be ending in fifteen minutes, his stomach growled with hunger. He stamped his foot on the bottom step, and as intended, the stairs started to move like an uphill treadmill and the klaxon blared in the common room. If that doesn’t wake her, James thought, nothing will.

But no furious screamed came from her room, no “Potter, you toerag!”� or any death threats, which was very odd. Dumbledore must have kept her up a long time, James realised, for her to sleep through this racket. He silenced the alarm with a spell and summoned his broom, just like the day before. He flew up to her room and banged on the door with his fist, “LILY!”� he half-shouted, half-whined. “I’m _starving_!”�

He rattled the doorknob, as though he was about to enter, though he had no clue how to unlock it. “Aha! So that’s the spell you used to lock this door!”� he lied, hoping it would make her get out of bed. He started to twist the doorknob, expecting her to yank it open and lecture him about privacy. But before he knew it he had turned the handle, and the door had swung inward, revealing Lily’s bedroom…devoid of Lily.

“The little…”� James muttered, looking with interest around the only dormitory he had never been in. She had gone to breakfast without him, and here he was almost dying of hunger waiting for her to get up! 

He had never known how much of a neat freak Lily was, there was nothing left out anywhere; no books on the desk, no clothes lying around, not even a spare quill or empty bottle of ink. At last, James thought triumphantly, he had found something to slag her about! _Yes! She **is** weird…I knew it!_

It made him fancy her even more. Gorgeous, smart, funny, _and_ crazy, maybe his mum was right in thinking that he had found a girl. _The_ girl.

He ignored that worthless thought and left Lily’s room, shutting the door. He flew back down the stairs and didn’t miss a beat as he hopped off his broom and dashed to the portrait hole, hoping that she would save him some toast, at least.

He made it to the Great Hall just as breakfast was ending and as usual for Halloween, when he passed through the doors a pair of floating pumpkins began to sing, bobbing up and down in the air above his head. They followed him to his seat, into which he threw himself in order to grab some food before it vanished. But where in Merlin’s name was Lily? He scanned the sea of faces, oblivious to the fact that the water he was pouring disappeared before it reached his goblet. He was getting worried again. It took so little to get him worked up these days, whereas last year he wouldn’t have been bothered if Padfoot had gone missing for a week.

 In an attempt to curb his growing anxiety, James wracked his brains trying to remember if Lily had something on this morning that he had forgotten; a Charms…‘thingy’ perhaps, a Prefect meeting- 

“Ow!”� James clapped a hand to the back of his neck. One of the pumpkins had got a little over-excited in its bobbing and had spilled some of its hot wax out onto James’s neck. James shot both of the pumpkins a glare. Then, peering into his empty goblet, he said in a menacing voice said, “Damn, no pumpkin juice left… wherever shall I find some?”�

The pair floated in the other direction as fast as they could.

 Picking the hardened candle wax off his skin, James frowned. He couldn’t remember Lily telling him that she had to go anywhere this morning. His appetite vanished then and there, the familiar anxiety creeping in to fill up his empty stomach.

James spotted Dorcas Meadowes, with whom he had always been friendly, further down the Gryffindor table, and called, “Dork-ass!”�

The girl turned her eyes expectantly towards his, smirking playfully, as she stopped what she was doing. He tried to grin back but he looked like a grimace. “Er- you haven’t see Lily this morning, have you?”� 

She couldn’t hear him over the racket of people preparing to leave. She held up her hands, “What?”� she mouthed.

As inconspicuously as he could, James pulled out his wand and transfigured Dorcas’s plate into a white lily flower. Her smile faltered. James tapped his glasses, mouthing, “Have you seen her?”�

She shook her head once, then abruptly turned away.

_Did Meadowes just give me the cold shoulder?_

But James didn’t have the energy to consider the possibility that he had just pissed off another person; Lily was enough to worry about. _Where was she?_

His eyes instinctively strayed to the trio at the other end of the table, deep in discussion about something, poring over the Map, which they must have Summoned from James’s room some time ago. James felt instantly jealous. He hated being left out of things.

Almost as one, the three boys turned to look around at James, who panicked (as one usually does when one is looked at) and began examining his fork. He quickly realised that he looked like a complete idiot, so he abandoned his ‘I’m-just-admiring-my-reflection-in-my-fork’ ruse and lifted his gaze to discover that they had gone. 

 The bell rang and James’s stomach lurched. Lily was about to miss first class; Lily never missed any class. He stood up, running a hand through his hair, and swallowed.

_Okay_ , he thought calmly, _accept the fact that she is missing and do something about it._

He strode toward the staff table, abandoning his bag. Professor Dumbledore wasn’t present, he hardly ever was these days, and so he approached Professor McGonagall, who was preparing to leave. Without looking at him she said, “ _Yes_ , Mr. Potter, I did see that wee bit of fancy transfiguration a moment ago. And _no_ , I will not be awarding you any House Points for it.”�

James rolled his eyes in impatience; clearly she was confusing him with another affection-starved Gryffindor. “Professor, have you seen Lily Evans this morning?”�

He was shocked when the woman gave him a sharp look. She openly assessed him, but James stood firm, unblinking. Then, in a tone that James could only describe as ominous, she said, “Follow me, Potter.”� 

He tried not to trail after her like a lost first year, as he left his bag in the Great Hall along with some of his Gryffindor courage, but it was difficult to keep up with her marching strides.  By the third floor he was ready to throttle the Scot, “Tell me where she is, woman!”� but when he tried to lift his arms he realised the strength had gone out of them. 

They finally arrived at her office and James sat down in front of the desk, scared stiff. Professor McGonagall remained standing in front of her fireplace, her dark brows knitted together. “Potter — ”� she began, but was cut off by an urgent rap on the door. “Excuse me,”� she said, leaving a distraught Head Boy to go and see who it was. 

There was a muffled discussion at the door, during which James fidgeted in his seat, managing to break his glasses twice as a result. A moment later McGonagall returned to her previous position in front of the fireplace. “Shut the door.”� James put on his repaired spectacles to see that another person had entered the office.

Sirius.

“What are _you_ doing here?”� James blurted before he could stop himself, bristling in his seat. 

Sirius looked at him through his curtain of dark hair and replied, “Same reason you are,”� before sitting down on the stool beside him and looking at the Professor with a grim expression. With a mixture of anger and regret, James tore his eyes away from his friend to look at their Head of House as well.

“Is she all right?”� James asked gravely, his eyes boring into the Professor’s. 

Neither boy blinked.

The forty-something professor seemed ill at ease with these two solemn young men. She spoke tersely, “Miss Evans is in a safe place, that is all you need to know.”�

This pitiful response was met with cries of indignation from James, and to James’s surprise, from Sirius.

“That will do, Mr. Black,”� McGonagall snapped. Then her eyes softened somewhat. She murmured to herself. “Oh fair enough, I don’t think the Headmaster would object.”� She clasped her hands together in front of her. “It appears that Miss Evans has become a target — of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers. Her accident in September- ”�

“Wasn’t an accident?”� James’s eyes widened and he glanced at Sirius who was nodding… as if he knew this already. James turned to McGonagall. “How did you know-?”�

She suddenly became brisk once more. “That is none of your concern. Suffice it to say that word was sent that there might be another attempt made on her life today. Therefore last night Miss Evans was taken somewhere safe to stay until Sunday.”� 

“Where?”� the two boys asked at once.

The professor eyed them shrewdly, “Some place where she cannot be reached, so don’t attempt to. Now go to your class, and needless to say, you’re to keep this to yourselves- and Mr. Black kindly fix your tie.”�

Sirius flashed her a begrudging smile, buttoning his top button and pulling up his tie. James opened his mouth to speak, but found he had nothing to say, so closed it again. The two boys both stood up and left the room, each with a curt, “Morning, Professor.”�  

James walked dazedly down the corridor, vaguely heading in the direction of the Great Hall as he tried to come to grips with this new revelation. 

Lily Evans was a target of You-Know-Who.

 It was difficult to even say it in his head. Why? Why her? Didn’t she have enough to deal with without some racist psychopath coming after her?

  _But she’s safe,_ he reassured himself. _For now at least, she’s safe._

Had Lily known that she was leaving last night? Why didn’t she tell him? Was it because of him being a prat and saying he fancied her? Just another thing to add to the long list of reasons why he should have kept his mouth shut.

James wondered where Lily was. He stopped in his tracks; maybe she was still in the castle somewhere. That would be just the type of barmy thing Dumbledore would do. James needed to see her; McGonagall saying Lily was all right didn’t count for much, coming from the woman who would send you on to your next class with snails instead of ears. He couldn’t trust McGonagall’s judgement; he would have to see for himself if Lily was ‘all right’. And if she was in the castle he would find her. 

“She’s not here.”�

James jumped at the sound. Then he slowly turned around to look at Sirius, who had followed him.

“And why would I need to know that?”� he replied with a scowl, knowing he was being a prick even as he said it. __

Sirius shrugged and with his tone of jaded sarcasm replied, “Just thought you might go looking for her. Obviously, I was wrong.”�

“Obviously.”� There was a pause. “I was going to owl her.”�

“Dumbledore’s made her Unplottable.”� 

James shoved his hands in his pockets and continued walking, turning left into a shortcut and going down some narrow stairs. Sirius followed. James ignored him.

How had Sirius known Lily was missing? Was that what the three of them had been whispering about at breakfast? How had they known before James? And more importantly, why did Sirius even care? It’s not as if he and Lily were friends or anything.

Then James remembered being in Potions a few days before, and seeing Lily and Sirius talking and laughing. 

Were they friends? How could this have happened and James not known? He began to think about all those ‘Charms club meetings’ Lily had disappeared to over the past month and wondered if she even belonged to a Charms club- but then the sane part of his mind stopped himself from going any further with that Moody-ish thought.

Sirius had known that Lily’s fall wasn’t an accident. How? Since when? And why didn’t he tell her?

 “She vanished off the map last night,”� Sirius broke the silence, as though continuing an interrupted conversation. He moved up to walk alongside James, “Moony owled her straight away, but the owl turned up this morning at breakfast, with the letter unopened. I thought — ah — oh, I don’t know what I thought,”� he shook his head. “That something bad had happened, I suppose.”�

James stopped and asked shortly, “Why are you following me?”� 

Sirius kept strolling along, “I’m waiting,”� he said with a smile.

“Oh yeah? Waiting for wait?”�

“For you to pull your head out of your arse.”�

James almost laughed out loud, but covered it with a hacking cough. Sirius’s smile widened. The Head Boy caught up with him, “You knew about this, didn’t you? That Death Eaters were after her?”�  James tried to sound angry, he was angry, yet at the same time was internally rejoicing that he and Padfoot were even _talking_.

“I knew her fall was no accident if that’s what you mean,”� Sirius replied. He looked askance at his friend who didn’t speak, so he took this as an invitation to continue. “A house-elf came up to her in the kitchens a few weeks ago, first time she’d ever been there, and when she spotted the elf, she went mental- _panicked_ , then bolted. I’ve known since then. Because that night she said something, something that she couldn’t have imagined… but I’ll bet my broomstick she thinks she did.”�

“Imagined what?”�

Sirius walked faster. “A house-elf,”� he spat, “A filthy little elf with bloodshot eyes, a grubby cloth tied round his middle and a pig snout for a nose.”� 

“What- _Kreacher_?”� 

“Kreacher was sent to the Quidditch Pitch on the 22nd September! They sent him _here-_ for _her_!”� 

“ _Who_ did?”� James demanded, stopping in his tracks.

Sirius gave a bark of bitter laughter and turned to face the wall, away from James. “…My little brother.”�

The breath went out of James. No, this was too much. Regulus was only a kid; he couldn’t be involved in this. He was too young. James looked at Sirius, who had not yet turned around again. 

Suddenly it hit James that it wasn’t just he who had been alone for a month, but Sirius as well. Sirius, who rarely spoke of his feelings to anyone, would have been devastated by the news of Regulus’s involvement. James was the only person who knew that on the night he ran away from Grimmauld Place, Sirius had almost changed his mind because he hadn’t wanted to leave his younger brother.

James stepped behind him and touched Sirius on the shoulder. He tried to reassure him, “Maybe he’s not properly working for You-Know-Who, Padfoot. Maybe it was just Bellatrix who put him up to it.”�

“That’s what I thought. But I don’t know which one’s worse, Prongs,”� he whispered. 

“Right,”� James sighed, “I need to say this…”�

Sirius looked up.

“I’m sorry, Padfoot. I’m sorry for…beating the crap out of you in September, for breaking your nose- ”�

“And pulling my hair like a girl,”� he added.

The corners of James’s mouth twitched. “And for pulling your hair like a girl. I’m sorry for being a prat and not talking to you or the others.”� He paused. “And I’m sorry that I left you to go through this by yourself.”� He frowned. “Have you even talked to anyone else- Moony, even?”�

“ _No_ ,”� Sirius muttered, as though the idea was inconceivable. “I just — I just — don’t know what’s going to happen to him, Prongs…and it’s scaring the shit out of me. I keep thinking that maybe if I had stayed a little longer, or just left in a different way, that -”�

“No!”� James gripped both his shoulders and steered him around to face him. “Sirius, if you had stayed any longer in that house you would have never gotten out! I didn’t think I’d have to say this again, but I will; Regulus is _not_ your responsibility and he’s not a baby.”�

“He’s fourteen,”� Sirius spat, pulling away from him. “And if I don’t take responsibility for him then who will? Bella?”� He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “We’ve seen the fruits of that labour already; attempted murder of the Head Girl.”� 

“Nothing is set in stone, Padfoot. You can still reach him if you want to, change his mind,”� James told him firmly. 

Sirius gave him a dubious look.

“Do you want your little brother to become a Death Eater before he leaves Hogwarts?”�

“NO!”� 

“Then you’re going to have to do something about it, aren’t you? And I’ll help…or entertain you along the way, if that’s all I can do.”�

Sirius stared at him for a moment and then said gruffly, “Thank-”�

“Don’t say it.”�

“We’re supposed to be in Potions now, right?”�

“Er- yeah,”� replied James, who admittedly hadn’t planned on going to first class, “Slughorn probably hasn’t even realised we’re absent.”�

Sirius gave a lop-sided grin. “Exactly.”� In a flash he had whipped out his wand and pointed it at the other boy. 

James’s ankle was instantly jerked into the air by an invisible hook. Sirius burst out laughing as the contents of James’ pockets fell onto the floor, including his wand. “You are useless! You and Evans don’t duel much, I take it?”� 

 The upside-down James folded his arms huffily, “I may be a tad rusty,”� with his black hair hanging wildly. Sirius sat down on the ground under him, just out of arm’s reach, and started to happily dig through his friend’s possessions. He made an obvious show of pocketing James’s chocolate frog cards and laughing maniacally.

“What in Merlin’s beard is this? Actually, it does look like it could have grown out of someone’s chin, not yours mind you.”� 

James pushed his glasses up his nose, an almost impossible task when upside-down, and looked down. “What?”�

Sirius held up a piece of cobweb with a questioning look on his face. “Cobwebs in your trousers, Prongs?”� he said in disgust. “Although it’s a miracle you even washed your hair this month without me, I suppose.”�

James immediately recognised what Sirius had in his hand and tried to grab it, “Give me it, Sirius.”� He made a swipe for it but instead grabbed some of Sirius’s hair. He pulled it and laughed at Sirius’s yelp. “Give me it!”� he demanded.

But Sirius yanked himself free and scrambled away from him, jumping to his feet. His eyes moved from James to the cobweb with intrigue. He smiled shrewdly, “What is this really?”�

James sighed in defeat. He knew he deserved this for being a prick since September. “See for yourself.”�

He closed his eyes as Sirius undid the transfiguration, and he knew it was successful when something whizzed past his face. 

Sirius was silent.

“Padfoot?”� James called, opening his eyes.

Then Sirius snorted. 

And snorted again.

Next came the sniggers.

Then the chuckles.

And finally the hysterical laughter.

“ _AHHHHH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU FANCY EVANS! AHA! AHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”�_

Anyone who entered that corridor at that moment, would have been greeted by the sight of the Head Boy, suspended upside-down in midair, becoming quite red in the face, and Sirius Black, rolling on the stone floor clutching his stomach, tears of laughter streaming down his face. He spotted James looking at him and laughed louder, raising his arm to point weakly at him while shaking his head. 

The ‘I LIKE LILY’ hovered above the howling boy, as though curious to know what was so funny. 

 

***

 

Remus had already gone to visit his sick aunt by the time James and Sirius arrived in Potions, so Peter, who had been sitting by himself, beamed when he saw the two black-haired boys entering the dungeon together.

“Wormtail,”� James grinned, giving him a pat on the back as he sat down on his right.

Peter sighed contentedly, “Good to have you back, Prongs. We missed you.”�

“Well, we missed having a fourth person to pulverise the Slytherins,”� joked Sirius, dropping down onto the seat on Peter’s left, “But we managed, didn’t we, Wormtail?”�

Peter chortled softly as he returned to taking notes off the blackboard.

Just as they had imagined, Professor Slughorn, a rotund man with a walrus moustache, hadn’t even noticed James and Sirius come in. He was holding court on the other side of the room, speaking to those lucky potioneers who were also members of the Slug Club.

“And my old pupil Bertrand Bott tells me he’s bringing something exceptional with him tonight,”� the Professor boasted, “He always knew I had a sweet tooth!”� 

“I don’t doubt it,”� muttered Sirius out of the corner of his mouth, watching the man wobble around the steaming cauldrons.

James snorted and Peter laughed. The Head Boy felt totally at ease. It felt wonderful to be sitting here with his friends, just like it was in September, having nothing better to do than pass notes and spout humorous one-liners. But even so, James still thought of Lily. His nerves had calmed down a bit since breakfast; although the news that people were trying to murder her made James think that maybe Alastor Moody had the right idea. But he knew Dumbledore would have sent her somewhere completely safe and well protected. That wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t try and look for her — no — he _would_ , just not today. 

Peter nudged James and gestured to a folded piece on parchment on the desk. James picked it up, and after checking to see that Slughorn was still chatting on the other side of the room, unfolded it the note. It simply read:

 

_Sun sets at six._

 

James glanced at Sirius and Peter, and gave an imperceptible nod. Then he tore the note into small pieces, and scooped them into his hand. He pushed back his stool and strode over to the bubbling cauldron in the middle of the room, and emptied his fist into it, where the parchment fizzed and dissolved within seconds. 

He felt Snape’s eyes on him and looked up. James glared at the sneering Slytherin, and clenched his jaw. Unlike Sirius or Peter, he could never get enjoyment from the fact that Snape was forbidden to reveal Remus’ secret. The knowledge that Snape _could_ reveal it to any one of his friends wasn’t the least bit funny to James.

The Head Boy broke eye contact with Snape, and turned away. He would find Lily tomorrow, he thought, but tonight, Moony was enough to worry about.

 

***

 

“I’m off!”� Graham Evans called through the house.

Petunia’s voice came from the kitchen automatically. “Bye.”�

He waited for a moment at the front door, looking up the stairs. There was no sound. He clicked his tongue in light annoyance and with a dark expression left the house, closing the door behind him with unnecessary force. 

Petunia waited for a few moments at the sink, soapy water dripping from her fingertips.  She listened intently for the clanging of the gate and when she heard it, she abandoned the dirty dishes and half-ran into the hall and up the stairs. 

She rapped on the door on the right of the landing, screeching and burst in without waiting for a reply. “You could have at least answered him, you ignorant brat!”�

The redhead sitting at the desk didn’t look up, but only scratched harder with her quill. 

Petunia stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. 

Lily turned to the back of the textbook in front of her, checking an answer, and continued writing.

“He’s angry now, Lily, and it’s your fault! For God’s sake, why couldn’t you just say, ‘Bye’?”�

“I don’t have to say anything to him!”� 

Petunia let out a scream of frustration. “Why must you be so bloody stubborn all of the time? You’ll regret this later, you will, when he comes home- and you deserve everything you get!”�

Lily twisted around in the seat and her eyes flashed. “Are you telling me that I deserve it if he hits me tonight?”�

Petunia’s expression wavered. Then she bit out, “Yes.”�

Lily rose from her chair with a daunting look. “I cannot believe you just said that! I’m not like you, Petunia. I can’t — _grovel_ — when he’s in a good mood in the hope that he will be easy on me later!”�

“I don’t _grov_ \- ”�

“You do grovel! It’s pathetic! And pointless, because it never even makes the slightest difference! He always finds something, Petunia, no matter what you do, and no matter _how many bloody dishes you clean_ , he’s still going to come home drunk and slap you around!”�

Petunia gasped and Lily herself was taken aback at her own callousness.

“At least I don’t try to make him hit me! It’s almost as if you want it to happen! Do you want to feel even more special than the people at your freak school? Because your father beats you?”� Petunia’s nostrils flared. “I always wondered why you never used that stick of yours to stop it from happening, you must love the attention you get, sobbing to your friends about your terrible home-life!”�

“I’m too young to use magic outside of school, you cow! If I could use my wand do you think I’d even be here?”�

Her sister sneered, “Well, I really don’t know, Lily. You seem to enjoy playing the victim.”�

Lily stormed across the room and stood nose to nose with Petunia, who was a bit taller than Lily, but in this moment seemed to shrink.

“I do not enjoy playing the victim!”� she hissed in uncontrollable rage. “And strange that you don’t seem to mind me being the victim when I’m defending you, Petty! Someone in this family’s got to have a backbone!”�

And with that, she forcibly pushed her sister from the bedroom and the door magically slammed shut.

 

It was already pitch black at six o’clock that evening as Lily was returning home from the corner shop, with a carrier bag of penny sweets and chocolate bars. She had found an old tin moneybox under her bed that afternoon, full to the brim with copper coins and even a few silver coins as well. She had counted the money at her desk, leaving Defence Against the Dark Arts for a while, and the total amount came to £5.36. The embarrassment of going to the shop with a purse full of pennies was definitely a more attractive option than staying in the house with Petunia for another second. So with that in mind, Lily pulled on her cloak, which had arrived with her trunk sometime during the night, and left the house without a word.

 She had been dying for some chocolate since the day before, but with all that had happened, obviously she had not had an opportunity to get some. Therefore, the first thing she picked up when she entered the pokey shop was a Marathon bar, and then remembering it was Halloween, went and bought a few mix-ups in case some little kids came trick or treating later on.

Her breath turned to steam before her face as Lily walked down her street. A sudden explosion above her made her jump and look up. A beautiful shower of red sparks was falling through the sky overhead, and a second later another firework went up. It unfurled in the sky like a flower in bloom, yellow and white glittering and crackling against the black, making it look as though there were twice as many stars. 

Lily stood there, her mouth slightly open and her head tilted back, gazing at fountain of colours in the sky.

“Lily.”�

Her head snapped round to see that a car had pulled up alongside the path and the driver had rolled down the window. Lily’s momentary sense of tranquillity vanished. Giving the woman in the car a cold look, Lily walked on towards her house. The woman drove along the road slowly, following her.

“Lily.”�

“I told you to leave me alone,”� she in a hard voice. She arrived at her gate and pushed it open. The woman stopped the car beside the footpath.

“Lily, we can’t go on like this. I’ve told you I’m sor- ”� but a child’s voice in the back of the car suddenly piped up, and she stopped talking.

“Mummy, what are you doing?”� the boy whined, “You said we were going to get sweeties!”�

In spite of herself, Lily looked in the back window of the car at the little boy, who seemed to be about five or six years old. He looked back at her sulkily.

“Ssh, love. We’re going in a minute,”� said the woman soothingly over her shoulder. She turned quickly back to Lily, whose green eyes were still fixed on the child.

“I don’t know what else I can say to you, Lily,”� pleaded the woman, her hands settled on the steering wheel. “I can’t make it up to you unless you let me _try_.”�

Lily didn’t know what to say. A little voice in her head was urging her to _just let it go._ She opened her mouth to speak-

“ _Mummy_! Can’t we go now? I want sweeties!”� The little boy turned his blond head to glare at Lily, for depriving him of his sweets, “Who is she Mummy? Why do you always talk to her? She’s a _stranger_!”�

“Rory!”� scolded the woman, but by that time Lily had already passed through the gate and was striding up the garden path.

“ _Lily_ \- wait!”�

Lily ignored her mother’s calls.

***

__

_Slam._

Lily jerked awake in bed and her fitful sleep was banished.

_Clunk, clunk_ came from downstairs.

Her dad was home.

She was immobile, gripped by the irrational fear that if she moved, even just an inch, he would hear her and come up. So she didn’t reach out for her alarm clock, to see how late it was, but lay on her side, paralysed. Obscure shapes loomed in the black of the bedroom and towered over her, huddled beneath the covers. Her eyes were opened wide and she strained to see through the dark, strained to see whether those were feet blocking out the light under her door, or something else entirely. He was downstairs, she knew that, but still she watched the yellow sliver of light, just in case.

There were loud thuds and bangs echoing up through the house and under Lily’s door. Then came an almighty _crash_ and Lily sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding. She stared at the door, wondering what on earth her father was doing down there. What had just smashed? A plate? A vase? His skull? She didn’t know.

Lily decisively threw off the duvet and got out of bed to investigate. Opening the door slightly, she crept out onto the landing and crouched at the top of the stairs. The hairs on her bare arms stood up and a draught passing by her ankles made her shiver. She peeked through the poles of the banister, gripping one with her right hand, and observed a few broken pieces of china littering the doorway of the kitchen. 

A plate. 

_He must be really drunk_ , she thought, her stomach twisting into knots.

Suddenly her father came into view, swaying slightly on his feet. Alarmed by his abrupt appearance, Lily started. Only her grip on the banister kept her from toppling down the stairs. She rose slowly from her crouching position, not removing her gaze from her father; and when she was sure he wasn’t looking, she slipped back into her bedroom.

Lily hastened back to bed and pulled the covers right over her head, though they didn’t offer any extra warmth. In her quilted cocoon her body was on full alert, fight or flee.  He wouldn’t have forgotten her earlier silence. 

Lily pushed the duvet away from her face, listening, the darkness pressing down on her from all sides. 

The sound of dragging feet stopped all thought in Lily’s brain.

 

She rolled onto her over, turning her back on the door. Fear engulfed her but she relaxed her body and calmed cleared her face of emotion. If she appeared to be asleep, there was less chance of…

 

He climbed the stairs sluggishly, lifting one foot at a time and dropping it heavily onto the next carpeted step. His waterproof jacket made a scouring noise against the wallpaper as he staggered up, slumping against the wall. 

After what seemed like an era, the footsteps reached the landing. The floorboards creaked in Lily’s direction and he halted outside her door.

Lily stopped breathing.

_Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone._

The silence stretched on as the seconds lengthened to a minute. 

Then floorboards creaked again as he turned around and lurched towards his own room. 

His door clicked shut.

Lily gasped for air and thanked God.

 

***

 

The three Animagi stood like statues under the invisibility cloak. They watched Madam Pomfrey and Remus Lupin cross the lawn in the darkness. Clouds temporarily concealed the moon but the pair still hurried for fear of a sudden reappearance. They hastened to the Whomping Willow, and disappeared from view as they entered its shadow. 

One had to squint to notice that the branches were moving of their own accord.

“If she doesn’t hurry up…”� muttered Sirius a minute later, waiting for the tree to freeze.

“No worries,”� James whispered to him, but he too wondered what was taking so long.

Finally, the willow’s twisted arms ceased their movement and Madam Pomfrey re-emerged from the black. She walked quickly back to the castle, nervously glancing over her shoulder at the thinning clouds. 

The second she was out of sight, James urged, “Go, Wormtail!”�

The blond boy nodded and darted out from underneath the cloak. The sky cleared and the moon glowed white, illuminating the small boy. He features were contorted in concentration, or in pain. A second later, the boy vanished from sight and where he once stood, only a small rodent remained. It immediately began scurrying across the grass towards the gnarled monster of a tree.

When the willow froze for the second time, James and Sirius knew that Wormtail had touched the knot at the bottom of its trunk, and they wasted no time transforming.

The huge black dog bounded out from behind the bushes and the stag followed close behind. Padfoot eased into the tunnel and James, kneeling on his forelegs, squeezed in after.

This was Prongs’ least favourite part of their monthly excursions. Technically, he was too big for the tunnel, but the only other option to that would be to delay transforming until he actually reached the Shrieking Shack, and that wasn’t an option at all, really.

As Prongs stooped along the tunnel at a slow pace, his antlers scraping the dirt ceiling above him, the other two were well ahead, nearing the origin of the bloodcurdling howls. 

When he emerged into the dusty house, the snarls and growls were much louder, and Prongs quickly straightened up and galloped towards the source. 

In the destroyed living room, the werewolf was viciously clawing an armchair in the destroyed living room, occasionally leaping out at the black dog that circled it. Like all games between animals, the line between amusement and aggression was a fine one indeed. The rat was settled on top of the piano, apparently taking great pleasure in sliding along its glossy surface. 

Padfoot barked at Prongs when he entered, giving the usual instructions. Prongs complied. It was his responsibility to lead Moony out of the Shrieking Shack and into the Forbidden Forest, where the Marauders’ real fun began. He began by dipping his long neck down to the ground and pushing his antlers against the floor, making a terrible screeching noise. This got the werewolf’s attention, and in a flash he was after Prongs, chasing it down the stairs.

Prongs galloped as fast as could, fear and adrenaline pumping through him as one. He hurtled towards the front door, and instantly noticed that more boards had been put up. Very aware of the wolf gaining on him, he increased his speed and lowered his head.

He blasted through the door like a battering ram, bits of wood flying in all directions, but didn’t stop running. Prongs turned away from the lights of the village, setting his course for the alluring darkness of the forest with the wolf, dog, and rat in tow.

 

***

 

Saturday arrived wet and windy at Hogwarts. Bullet-sized drops of rain lashed at the windows of the boys’ dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, where all four Marauders were cooped up.

 Since they had missed the Halloween Feast the previous night, they had raided the kitchens and stole a few pumpkins from the Great Hall for their own celebrations. Sirius had kidnapped Remus in the Hospital Wing that morning and brought him up under the cloak; the sandy-haired boy was now lying in his own bed, utterly drained, with new scars on his face and body, but still managing to keep up with the conversation of the other three.

Sirius told the other two, between guffaws, about James fancying Lily. When James had revealed that she had rejected him, rather than receiving sympathy as he had hoped, the three boys only laughed harder.

After the food had been demolished and the pumpkins smashed to bits in a new sport dubbed, ‘Veggie Bludgers’, Remus drifted off to sleep and the three others lapsed into silence. 

“This is so boring!”� exclaimed Sirius after half an hour, getting up off the floor where James and Peter were playing a game of Exploding Snap. 

“You don’t have to stay here with me, you know. I can go back to the Hospital Wing,”� said Remus quietly, opening one eye to look at the black-haired boy.

“No, Moony, I didn’t mean it like that,”� said Sirius gloomily. Then his eyes lighted on that ‘thingy-phone’ Remus brought with him every year to school, sitting in the corner. It was like a wizarding wireless, Sirius knew, but you had to use those ‘records’ to get it to work. 

Sirius, James and Peter were from all wizarding families, unlike Remus, whose father was a Muggle and whose mother was a Muggleborn witch. The three Purebloods were woefully ignorant of all Muggle culture, except for Muggle music, thanks to Moony.

 Remus’s father was mad about music, and always sent him back to Hogwarts laden with new records to listen to over the year. 

The werewolf spotted Sirius doing something in the corner, and asked tiredly, “Padfoot, are you messing with my things?”�

“Not at all, Moony, my dear friend,”� came the unconvincing reply.

“Sirius,”� sighed Remus, “don’t touch my- ”�

_Is this the real life?_

_Is this just fantasy?_

_Caught in a landslide,_

_No escape from reality…_

Sirius turned round, grinning like an idiot, as the music blared. James and Peter looked up at him, and then at each other. This was their favourite Muggle song. They had made Remus play it so many times the previous year that they had learned the words off by heart.

_Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see…_

“I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,”� sang Sirius, moving away from record player with a feigned expression of anguish. 

The two boys on the floor nodded to each other and slowly stood up, smiling as they mouthed the familiar words. “Because I’m easy come, easy go, little high, little low- 

“Anyway the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me…”�

With as much solemnity as he could muster, Sirius looked at Remus and sang, “To me…”�

The three boys all moved towards Remus’s bed, and Sirius knelt down beside it, hands clasped together, “Mama, just killed a man.”�Remus watched the display with a look that clearly said ‘I am in a room full of nutcases…and I’m enjoying it.’

“Put a wand against his head,”� nodded James, improvising with twinkling eyes.

“Cast the curse and now he’s dead,”� crooned Peter.

Sirius sang, “Mama, life had just begun, but now I’ve gone and thrown it all away! Mama, ooh, didn’t mean to make you cry,”� he got up and moved away, looking every bit the tortured soul. “If I’m not back again this time tomorrow,”� he waved his hand dismissively, “Carry on, carry on.”� 

“As if nothing really matters,”� sang James and Peter.

“Too late!”� Sirius sang dramatically, “My time has come! Sends shivers down my spine, body’s aching all the time!”�

Sirius began to hug each person sadly, “Goodbye everybody, I’ve got to go. Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth…

“Mama! Oooh! I don’t wanna die! Sometimes wish I’d never been born at all!”�

Peter began to play air guitar, badly, as he had never actually seen a guitar before. Remus burst out laughing and from his bed tried to show the blond boy how to do it properly. 

Sirius threw himself down on his bed in despair, while nodding his head to the music.

Then James moved in front of one of their trunks, flicked out his imaginary coat tails, and sat down. Sitting very straight he pretended to play the piano in time with the music, making everyone laugh. He smiled vaguely as though he didn’t know what they were laughing at.

Sirius jumped and pointed at Remus, “I see a little silhouetto of a man!”�

James and Peter belted out, “Scaramouch, Scaramouch! Will you do the fandango?”�

Sirius cowered while singing, “Thunder bolt and lightning, very very frightening me!”�

Peter and James took turns squeaking and growling, “Galileo!”�

“Galileo!”�

“Galileo!”�

“Galileo!”�

“Galileo figaro- _magnificoooo_!”�

Sirius began to mock James, pouting, “I’m just a poor boy nobody loves me!”�

James and Peter sang pleadingly to Remus, “He’s just a poor boy from a poor family! Spare him his life from this monstrosity!”�

Sirius crept towards Remus, tentatively singing, “Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?”�

“Bismillah- no! We will not let you go!”� sang James and Peter, shaking their heads.

“Let him go!”� shouted Remus, laughing.

 “Bismillah! We will not let you go!”�

“Let him go!”� Remus repeated, sitting up.

“Bismillah! We will not let you go!”�

Sirius ran up to James and started shaking him. “Let me go!”�

“Will not let you go!”� choked James through the laughter.

Sirius shook Peter. “Let me go!”�

Peter doubled up, “Will not let you go!”�

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”� they both yelled.

Sirius threw up his hands in desperation, “Mama mia, mama mia, mama mia, let me go!”�

“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me!”�

Peter sang, “For me!”�

Remus jumped up in his pyjamas, “For meeeeeeeeeeee!”�

James bounded on top of Remus’s bed and started wildly banging his black head of hair up and down to the music. Sirius and Peter jumped on and everyone copied James. The four marauders were bouncing violently on the four-poster, even Remus, who seemed to have found a new lease of life.

James suddenly leapt off the bed, holding his wand like a microphone as he had seen someone do on a record sleeve, “SO YOU THINK YOU CAN STONE ME AND SPIT IN MY EYE?!”� he roared, pointing at himself with a manic look on his face. “SO YOU THINK YOU CAN LOVE ME AND LEAVE ME TO DIE?! OH, BABY! CAN’T DO THIS TO ME BABY! JUST GOTTA GET OUT! JUST GOTTA GET RIGHT OUT OF HERE!”�

James danced crazily around the room, as though heading for the door, and the other three danced too while laughing hysterically, still keeping an eye on the Head Boy in case he danced down the stairs and broke his neck.

Then he started to twirl around as the music slowed, waving his hands about, and every boy sang, “Ooooh! Oooh yeah! Ooooh yeah!”�

“Nothing really matters,”� sang Peter with a mock expression of sadness, as he stopped bouncing on the bed.

“Anyone can see,”� sang Sirius, getting off the bed.

Remus went on, “Nothing really matters…”�

James stopped spinning, “Nothing really matters- to me…”�

Sirius lay down on the floor quietly, singing, “Any way the wind blows.”�

After a few seconds of silence, Sirius raised his head. “That wasn’t boring, was- ”�

_Is this the real life?_

_Is this just fantasy?_

James turned around from the record player, singing along again, his black hair sticking straight up and his glasses askew. 

“What? I want to be Freddy the whole way through.”�

 

 

            

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. A Purple Knight

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Harry Potter or the song 'Heard it Through The Grapevine.'

_______________________________________________________________________________

** PROVING ME WRONG **

CHAPTER 19

_ “A Purple Knight” _

The sky outside the kitchen window was grey with dark purpling clouds swelling across it like bruises. They were plump and heavy with rain that refused to fall, bearing down upon the little terrace house with oppressive force. There was an ominous rumble. Lily’s eyes strayed to the window, momentarily forgetting about the boiling kettle as she waited for the flash of lightning to come. No fork of white appeared in the sky, however, but another roll of thunder came nonetheless, followed by a howl from the bloodhound next door. The last of the Halloween fireworks were being set off. Having already used the biggest and most spectacular rockets the previous night, the children of Little Whinging were left with the smaller, cheaper firecrackers, which often only made noise. The result was a cacophony of rumbling, howling, squealing and crackling, which seemed to be concentrated on the Evans’s back garden. 

The kettle whistled, piercing through all other sounds, and with a sideways glance at the plum coloured clouds, Lily lifted the boiling kettle off the stove and poured the scalding water into a mug. She removed the teabag from the mug a minute later, and sat down at the kitchen table, lifting the bottom of the tablecloth onto her lap like a blanket. 

It was two o’clock in the afternoon and Lily was in the house alone. Well, practically alone. Petunia had gone to play tennis with Yvonne and her father was still out for the count in his bedroom. Although she hated herself for doing it, Lily had cleaned the mess he had made in the kitchen the previous night. He hadn’t just smashed a plate, but spilled a fizzy drink and left the fridge door wide open. The milk had turned by the time Lily got up that morning and the pop had dried to the floor like sugary glue. She’d had to change her socks twice before being smart enough to put on a pair of shoes.

Thinking of clothes, Lily looked down at what she was wearing. Whoever had packed her trunk must not have known where she was going, as they didn’t include any of Lily’s Muggle apparel in the assortment of clothes. As a consequence of this, Lily had been forced to search her bedroom wardrobe for something to wear. The only garment she had found that actually fit her was a flower print skirt that she had bought several summers ago. She was clearly a bit taller than she was at age fourteen, but since she wasn’t planning on leaving the house Lily didn’t really mind the way the skirt ended halfway up her thighs.

She wondered what James was doing. Something hilarious, she imagined with surprising fondness. This reminded her of Thursday night, and of James’s sincere declaration of like”. Lily’s reaction still made her flush with embarrassment; all of that thinking about signs and James not looking like a toad and Dorcas Meadowes. Lily had thought that the idea of James fancying her wasn’t terrifying, but two days later she knew it was. Merlin, the idea of going out with a boy seemed totally ludicrous: going almost everywhere together, holding hands, hugging, kissing! Lily found it impossible to imagine herself doing any of those things, let alone the many other activities that most normal Seventh Years revelled in. Then a mental image of a naked James Potter exploded into her mind and Lily clapped a hand over her eyes, silently berating herself for thinking such things and for being so easily flustered by them. 

The only excuse for her lack of panic on Thursday night was that, privately, she had been waiting for it to happen. She knew what James was going to do. Although Lily wasn’t socially adept when it came to boys, she instinctively knew what it meant when a boy- when a man, looked at her in _that_ way. 

James had been doing it for quite some time. 

He obviously hadn’t realised he was doing it, Lily thought, or else he would have been a bit more subtle. Then again, James never was one for subtlety, and maybe all boys were like that and it was Lily who was acting strangely about the whole thing. But no matter if this was normal behaviour for teenage wizards, Lily was sure that James wasn’t aware of how blatantly he stared or that it was this, not their friendship, which sent rumours about their secret love flying around the castle. When they joked in the evenings about the silly stories they’d heard during the day, Lily knew that the gossiping would stop if James did. But she’d rather wrestle a troll than have that conversation. It was uncomfortable enough feeling his eyes on her all the time without actually discussing it with him, and when she had said, “I can’t,” she was telling the truth. To freely give someone that much power over her was suicide in Lily’s eyes. That would just be asking for it.

And what is more, thought Lily, James couldn’t possibly like her that much. It was an infatuation, pure and simple. Yet even the thought of someone being infatuated with her made Lily cringe. She was quite sure that James would go off her in while, (but hopefully not completely as she did like having him as a friend) and set his sights on someone more suited to him, someone who knew lots about Quidditch, like Dorcas. Lily once again found herself thinking that James and Dorcas would make a good couple. 

“Dorcas Potter,” she said aloud. Then she nodded with a slight smile on her face. 

Lily sipped her tea. As she replaced her mug on the table her face stilled.

“Lily Pot-”

The telephone rang. Had Petunia been in the house Lily would have let it ring until the last possible moment before answering, acting as though she didn’t care if it woke Graham Evans up. But her older sister wasn’t there, so Lily gave up pretence and got to the phone before the third ring.

“Hello?” she spoke quietly into the receiver.

“Petunia, please,” came the brusque voice.

Lily scowled at the sound, “Who, may I ask, is calling?” she asked in a falsely polite tone.

“Put Petunia on the phone,” the person demanded.

“Who is calling?” persisted Lily.

“GET PETUNIA!”

“Oh, it’s you Vernon,” she exclaimed in mock surprise, “Why didn’t you say so? ”

“PETUNIA!”

“I’m afraid Petunia isn’t in right now…” said Lily, twisting the cord around her finger, “And I don’t think she’ll be coming back because her eyesight returned this morning and she realised she’s been going out with a complete swine all these years. Ran screaming to the hills she did.”

“YOU’RE CERTAINLY NOT COMING TO THE WEDDING!” roared Vernon Dursley before hanging up.

Lily’s face slackened. “ _Wedding_?”

The garden gate clanged outside and Lily saw her sister through the living room window. Dropping the receiver, she went to the front door to wait for Petunia, but then changed her mind, choosing instead to open it and run down the garden path towards her. 

“You’re getting married?” cried Lily.

Petunia’s mortified expression did not deter her.

“Who told you?” demanded Petunia, her face white as a sheet.

“Vermin of course- I cannot believe you didn’t tell me. I- I didn’t even know you were engaged!”

“Keep your voice down!” hissed the blonde girl. Brandishing her tennis racket, she added, “And get into the house before the entire street hears you.”

As soon as they were inside with the door tightly shut, Lily rounded on Petunia, “Does Dad know?”

Petunia rolled her eyes, “Of course he knows, you nitwit, how do you think it’s all being paid for? But don’t you dare bring it up when he’s awake; do you hear me? Talk about it and he’ll be furious. And pick that telephone off the floor, we don’t have those - _Home Gnomes_ \- here to do everything for you.”

Lily hung up the phone without a word. She had always believed that Petunia would have somehow made herself forget the stories Lily had told her about Hogwarts; it was astounding that years later she could still recall random, though inaccurate, titbits of information such as the existence of house elves. 

Foolishly, Lily was shocked that Petunia, her only sister, hadn’t told her that she was getting married. Feeling as though she was looking at a stranger, she asked, “When is it?” in a low voice.

“The 24th of March.”

Lily put her hands in the pockets of her skirt, looking at the carpet. “Were you even going to tell me?”

Petunia went to put her racket in the cupboard under the stairs, and her reply was muffled in the pokey space.

“What?” 

The older girl straightened up and closed the cupboard door. “Stop being so melodramatic,” she said in a tired voice, “Of course I was going to tell you.” She looked at her sister, “What are you wearing?”

“When? A week afterwards?” Lily pressed on, playing on Petunia’s exhaustion. “There’s not much point in knowing now anyway, seeing as I’m officially uninvited.”

“Uninvited? Who told you that you were uninvited?” asked Petunia, her nostrils flaring slightly.

Lily felt a rush of affection for her sister. So long had it been since Petunia had acted in anyway like a big sister that Lily had forgotten what it felt like. 

“Your…ugh… _fiancé_.” The word stuck in her throat.

Petunia laughed and the alien sound made Lily start. Then the blonde’s expression suddenly sobered and she looked at Lily. “You’re coming,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“But what about my ‘abnormality’? You actually want me there? Mingling with all your friends? With Vermin’s family?” asked an incredulous Lily, following Petunia into the kitchen.

“Not particularly, no,” was Petunia’s blunt reply as she washed her hands.

“Then, wh-”

“I need a bridesmaid who suits mauve.”

Lily’s heart sank.

“I told Yvonne half an hour ago that you were being my bridesmaid. You know what she looks like; her swarthy skin would look hideous against any shade of purple. My wedding photos would be ghastly- _how many times have I told you to use a coaster_?”

Petunia pointed at the ring underneath Lily’s mug of tea as though it were cat excrement.

Lily didn’t apologise, but quickly placed the mug in the sink and wiped the table twice with a cloth. Petunia told her to do it a third time but Lily refused, feeling quite inhospitable toward her older sister.

“And what on earth did you do to the floor, my shoes are sticking to it. I came home early because it looked like rain and I didn’t want to get them wet, and you destroy them anyway.”

 “It’s not going to rain until tonight at the earliest, Petunia, and I didn’t do anything to your shoes.” Lily nodded her head in the direction of the first floor, where Graham Evans was still sleeping.

“Oh,” said Petunia and didn’t complain after that. She changed out of her tennis dress and five minutes later was on her hands and knees in the kitchen, furiously scrubbing the tiles.

Before she left the room in disgust, Lily said, “She was waiting outside the house in her car last night.” There was no need to explain who ‘she’ was.

Petunia stopped her fervent scouring but didn’t lift her head. 

At the same time, both girls said, “He’s getting big.”

***

A pair of fourth year boys stuck their heads out of their dormitory door and gazed up the spiral staircase of Gryffindor Tower, in the direction Seventh Year dorm, from whence was drifting the sound of music. Strange music.

_“Ooh, I bet you’re wondering how I knew_

_About your plans to make me blue,_

_With some other guy you knew before._

_Between the two of us guys,_

_You know I love you more._

_It took me by surprise I must say,_

_When I found out yesterday._

_Don't you know that I heard it through the grapevine,_

_Not much longer would you be mine._

_Oh I heard it through the grapevine,_

_Oh and I'm just about to lose my mind._

_Honey, honey yeah…”_

The two boys looked at each other and shook their heads. That was definitely not the Wizarding Wireless they were listening to. Seventh Years were barmy. The fourth years retreated into their room and shut the door tight.

A moment later James Potter descended, “Of course I’m going to Quidditch practice. A little bit of rain won’t stop me.” he called up the stairs. 

Sirius Black followed, his black curtain of hair flopping as he bounded after his best friend. “Mind if I come along for the fun?”

“Why not,” said James with a grin, “Although I find the smell of wet dog revolting.”

Sirius whipped out his wand but this time James was faster, and Sirius’s ankle was jerked up into the air by an invisible hook. 

“Ah, you’ve been practicing, I see,” cried the dangling Sirius knowingly as James continued down the stairs, bringing the black-haired boy along with him. 

“Since yesterday?” James cocked an eyebrow, “No, I’ve just lost all trust in you not to attack me.”

“Good to see things going back to normal.”

“I agree.” James stopped in the middle of the Common Room, an upside-down Sirius at his side. “Wait here,” he said, before passing through the door into the Head Boy and Girl’s dormitory.

“Potter! Don’t leave me here like this; I’m a sitting duck for anyone with a dungbomb! Get your arse back here!”

A smirking James reappeared in the doorway. With a flick of his wand Sirius fell to the floor in a heap. He got himself to his feet and walked towards the Head Boy. James stopped him.

“You can’t come in here, it’s against the rules. McGonagall told me specifically in September not to let any of you in.”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up. “You are taking the piss, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m ser-”

“Stop there,” said Sirius, before pushing past James into the Heads’ dorm. James sighed and closed the door. At least I tried, he thought. 

Sirius let out a low whistle as he surveyed the common room. “Everything makes sense now. It’s not Evans that’s keeping you locked up in here all the time; you don’t want to leave. Speaking of Evans, you haven’t forgotten about her, have you? ‘Cause yesterday you said you were going to look for her.”

“I know what I said and I didn’t forget,” answered James quickly. He went up to his bedroom to get his Quidditch gear and his Cleansweep. “It’s just I was thinking last night - you know the way everything is clearer when you transform – well, I was thinking that there isn’t much point in trying to find Lily- er…Evans, because if Dumbledore’s hidden her she’ll be as safe as houses.” He pulled his Quidditch uniform over his head. “And besides, what am I going to do if I do find out where she is? Owl her? Not bloody likely.” The memory of Thursday night was still fresh in his mind. His mouth twisted into a grimace as he thought about it more. Merlin, he’d acted like a complete fool! He hadn’t given Padfoot a detailed account of the _‘I LIKE LILY’_ fiasco and wasn’t keen to either.  “Nah, the best thing is to wait until tomorrow.” 

James emerged from his room with his arms full. He looked about for Sirius but couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Padfoot?” he called.

“Over here.”

“Wha- how did you get up there?”

James stared across to the top of the opposite staircase, where Sirius was standing waving. No klaxon was blaring and the stairs were as normal.

“It’s the shoes, Prongs. Didn’t you know?” He nodded to his pair of shoes on the common room floor and James noticed that Sirius was in his socks. “The stairs aren’t magicked to tell girls from boys, but to tell girly shoes apart from boys’ shoes. Socks are neutral.” He grinned at his own genius and turned to enter Lily’s bedroom.

“Padfoot!” James rushed down his staircase.

“What?”

“That’s private.”

Sirius started laughing and opened the door. “Now I know you’re taking the piss. As if you didn’t come in here yesterday.”

James frowned, “Yeah, but- ”

“But nothing, Potter,” he walked in. “Evans wouldn’t mind anyway, we’re friends now.”

James threw his Quidditch gear to the floor and kicked off his shoes. “You obviously don’t know Lily.” He ran up Lily’s stairs, “She’d hex your balls off if she caught you snooping around her room.”

He reached the top to see Sirius bouncing on the Head Girl’s four-poster bed. 

“Where does our Head Girl live, Prongs?” enquired Sirius as he jumped off the mattress and onto the floor.

“Er…Surrey, I think,” replied James distractedly, watching Sirius like a hawk, certain he was going to break something. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that there was no sign of Lily’s trunk, a piece of information that would have been useful to know the previous morning.

“You _think_?” Sirius pulled open the top dresser drawn and began rifling though Lily’s undergarments as one would flick through a vaguely interesting magazine.

“Oi! Put those frilly – whatever they are – back,” ordered James, striding over to Sirius. 

“Not very adventurous, tut tut, Lily, I’m disappointed.”

“For fuck’s sake, Sirius, stop messing about. I’ve got Quidditch practice in five minutes.” 

“You know I’ve realised that you only use Muggleisms when you’re really angry.”

“Really?” snapped James. He slammed the drawer closed, but not before Sirius had plucked a black brassiere from the array. 

“Aha!” He cried in a ‘eureka’ tone of voice, swinging the garment in James’s face. “Who do you suppose she’s wearing this for?”

“Shut up. Give me that,” he ripped the bra from Sirius’s grasp, already tired of the torment. He was more angered by the fact that he was getting quite hot in the face rather than the fact that Sirius was acting like his normal obnoxious self.

“If you wanted it so much, Prongs, you could have just asked. I know, why don’t we put it back in the drawer- ”

 “Good idea,” growled James.

“- And tomorrow you can ask Lily yourself if you can keep it. That’s much more polite, wouldn’t you say?”

Sirius laughed at James’s glare.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Before you bloody cry,” said Sirius, rolling his eyes.

“Thank you,” James replied and made his way to the door, “Come on, I’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”

Sirius started chuckling again.

“What?” snapped James, turning around. He followed Sirius’s eyes. “Oh- shit.” 

He shoved the bra back into Lily’s top drawer, and without meeting Sirius’s gaze said, “Come on.”

They arrived at the waterlogged Quidditch Pitch shortly after the rest of the team, who were huddled like sardines in a tin beneath the shelter of the changing room entrance. At the appearance of their captain more than one hopeful face fell in disappointment. The more experienced players knew that it would take a natural disaster (and perhaps not even then) to prompt James Potter to cancel Quidditch practice. Giving the impression that the torrential rain was but minor distraction, James and Sirius took their time walking across the pitch, almost strolling through the muddy ground as though it were a summer’s day. But between the pair of them they knew that Sirius was reacquainting himself with the place. They had not been down to the pitch together, nor alone even in Sirius’s case, since the day of Lily’s fall and their ensuing scrap.

Amid impatient cries to hurry, James unlocked the door of the changing rooms and the team tumbled in through the doorway, thankful to be shielded from the elements if only for a brief period. “Right,” said James, getting everyone’s attention as he shut the door with a snap. With his hands behind his back, he walked into the centre of the room. The only dry things on him were his glasses, thanks an indispensable charm that his mother had taught him. His untidy black hair was plastered to his forehead, and a puddle of rainwater was forming around his feet as rivulets of water ran off his cloak and onto the floor. “I’ve got a confession to make.”

Eyebrows raised and a few joking comments about coming out of broom cupboards were made. 

James’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses as he shook his head. “No, I’m not in love with Sirius Black over there.” All eyes flicked over to Sirius, who leant elegantly against the tiled wall, looking drenched but polished. “Although I must admit he is stunningly attractive. No, I have to admit that I’ve neglected you all quite a bit so far this year.”

There was an outcry of ‘don’t be stupid’ and ‘of course you haven’t’, as well as ‘shut up you idiot’ from Sirius.

“No, no, I have,” James continued determinedly, “We aren’t half as much prepared as I would like for this match against Hufflepuff next week, Ravenclaw won’t be easy either, and Slytherin are – it kills me to say it – looking good. And we haven’t even thought of how to approach them, let alone beat them.”

James looked at the glum expressions on his team’s faces and felt a tinge of guilt. “I don’t want to hurt your confidence, because we are good, but-”

“Not good enough,” droned his six team mates. 

James smiled as he looked at them. Then his smile grew wider as his eyes fell on Jarvis Clarke, the new beater. “You know, I’ve just remembered something. We haven’t given Jarvis here a proper introduction to the team.” 

Soon everyone was smiling like a Cheshire cat. Except Jarvis Clarke, of course.

“I’ll get the… beans!” cried Quigley, the other beater, running out of the room.

“I’ll get the… bath!” shouted another.

“I’ll get the balloons!”

“I’ll get the… Boggart!”

“I’ll get the…er…Bludgers!”

One by one, the Gryffindor Quidditch team left the room. Sirius took his leave with Mullet, the chaser, so that only James and a pasty-faced Jarvis remained. 

“And I’ll get the beater,” said James with a lopsided grin. 

He pulled the burly boy to his feet.  “Up you get, Clarke, we still need to practice after this, better be quick.” He brought him over to the door. “Wait here. I’m going to leave, but when I say, you come out, alright?” Jarvis gulped and nodded. James winked at him and slipped out. 

Five minutes later, above the thundering rain, Jarvis heard his captain call, “Come out, Clarke” through the door. He steeled himself for what was about to happen. With his chest puffed out and his eyes shut tight, he reached for the door handle and pulled. 

There was a blinding flash and a puff of purple smoke followed by howls of laughter. Jarvis opened one eye. “Oh, for fuc- you lot are right evil gits.”

His team mates only laughed in response. Sirius Black, the one holding the Wizarding camera, snorted, “The look on your face! Ah, that’s one for the album.”

The Quidditch practice lasted hours and it was fully dark by the time a thoroughly soaked James Potter and Sirius Black returned to the castle. As they ascended the marble staircase, which was deserted save for the Grey Lady, Sirius said, “You said Evans lives in Surrey?”

Struggling to remember what his best friend was talking about, an exhausted James frowned. After a few moments of blankness, he replied, “Yeah, yeah, I did, Padfoot.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I?” was James’s grumpy reply, shifting the broomstick across his shoulders.

“You - supposedly Evans’s closest friend in school - don’t know what town she lives in?”

“No, have I failed a friendship test out of Teen Witch or something? Why do you care anyway?” 

Sirius shrugged. “I was just thinking – no, really – that if you didn’t know where Evans lived, it’s unlikely that anyone other than Dumbledore or McGonagall would know.”

The pair traipsed up the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower. “And?” prompted James. 

“She’s probably just at home, then.”

“Oh, right.” James muttered, then he yawned. 

James stopped at the turnoff to the Heads’ corridor and his eyelids were drooping as he bid Sirius goodnight.

“See you tomorrow. Hogsmeade, right?”

“Yeah. I want to talk about Regulus as well.”

“Oh yeah, we’ll work something out, Padfoot. No worries. Night.”

James collapsed onto his bed before eleven o’clock, looking forward to sleeping in till at least noon the next day. Before he fell into a deep sleep he remembered that his Head Boy duties meant he wouldn’t have much free time at Hogsmeade to discuss Regulus. It was with this annoying thought on his mind that James Potter nodded off.

Five minutes later, however, he started and sat bolt upright. His eyes went wide and his face paled. “She’s home,” he spoke in a tense whisper, his heart pounding wildly. He scrambled out of bed, looking for his shoes, his glasses, and his wand.

James found the small circular mirror in his trouser pocket. “Sirius Black,” he almost shouted into it. Sirius’s drowsy face appeared.

“Prongs? What’s -”

“Sirius, get the lads up. Lily’s in trouble.”

***

Lily Evans woke suddenly. She looked at her surroundings, she was in her bedroom, and down at her clothes. She had fallen asleep on top of the covers and now she felt clammy and uncomfortable. Pulling back the net curtain, she peered blinking out of the window at the black night. It still had not rained and it seemed that the stars were in hiding. The alarm clock on her bedside table showed eleven o’clock. Lily wondered what had woken her.

Her father’s muffled voice drifted in under the door. He had left the house minutes after getting dressed that afternoon, without so much as a word. It was Petunia who had surmised that he had gone to the pub to watch football. When Lily had gone up to her room at around ten o’clock he still had not returned, meaning that he must have just arrived back. It was always a bad idea to be awake when Graham Evans came home at night, and even then it was still possible that he would wake one of his daughters up to ‘talk.’ Last night Lily had been lucky that he had changed his mind about coming into her room. It seemed that it was Petunia’s misfortune tonight.

Lily got out of bed and quietly crept across to listen through the wall which separated her own room from Petunia’s. She pressed the left side of her face against the cool wallpaper, her green eyes wide and alert as she struggled to hear.

“You can’t wait to get away, can you? Doesn’t matter who with, as long as they’ll have you.” Graham Evans’s tone was soft and glacial, but Lily could detect the slur in his words.

“No, Dad, it’s not like that,” was Petunia’s meek reply, “I – I love Vernon.”

Her father’s callous laughter sent a shiver down Lily’s spine.

“You don’t love that pig of a man. You love his money, and his car, and his house. All you want, Pet, is to get your hands on what he’s got. Leaving me to foot the bill.”

“Vernon offered to p- ”

Lily flinched at the loud _slap._ Petunia whimpered.

“I know what Vernon offered to do, Petunia Evans - to make a fool out of me! The fat bastard would just love to throw that back in my face a few years down the line, wouldn’t he?”

Lily remembered Petunia’s warning earlier; she hadn’t been exaggerating about their father’s antipathy towards the topic of the wedding.  

“Wouldn’t he, Petunia?”

_Smack_.

“WOULDN’T HE?”

_Smack_.

Lily threw open her door and strode across the hall to find Petunia curled up in a ball on her bed and Graham Evans bearing down on her.  “Leave her alone!” screamed Lily, feeling sick with fear and disgust. She walked right up to her father. “What about your promise? Or have you forgotten already? Just leave her alone for God’s sake!”

Her father gave her a black look over his shoulder. “Get back to bed.”

Petunia’s eyes begged her not to go. Lily knew she couldn’t have left, even if she had wanted to. She had to protect her sister.

I won’t use my wand, I cannot use my wand, thought Lily, no matter how bad it gets.

 She straightened up. “No.”

“Get into bed now, before I make you!”

Her eyes narrowed to slits and she stared darkly at her father. “Go to hell.” 

Her lunged for her, and Lily ran for her life. Everything seemed to slow down as she dashed down the stairs. She could hear her father’s footsteps behind her, pounding with her heartbeat. At the bottom she turned to bolt for the kitchen, but shrieked as her father grabbed hold of her long auburn hair. He had her now. Her father jerked her back, and Lily was cast to the ground, her head crashing on the tiled floor. The guttural scream released from her throat rang through the house. 

***

The gravel path crunched loudly beneath the feet of the four eighteen year olds. The rain had stopped and the night had cleared to reveal a crisp navy sky.

 “What the hell is going on?” shouted Sirius, stopping a few hundred yards away from the gates of Hogwarts. Peter and Remus came to a halt. “Who knows?” panted Remus, who had insisted on coming along, and was still wearing his pyjamas underneath his coat.

James kept running, “Hurry up!” he roared over his shoulder. The other three caught up with him and James gave the werewolf a sideways look. I shouldn’t have let him come, he thought angrily. But it was too late now for that. It might be too late for anything.

James cursed loudly and ran faster. He skidded into the wrought iron gates and began scaling them. He reached the top, now level with the two winged boars which flanked the entrance to the school, and recklessly jumped off. He landed badly on his ankle, groaning in pain. 

“What in the name of Ptolemy are you playing at?” barked Sirius through the gates at James. He rattled the railings. “Are trying to get yourself killed?”

James got to his feet and glared at the three boys on the other side. “Just climb the bloody gates. I’ll worry about me.” 

Peter muttered something as he clambered up the twisted iron poles.

“What?” snapped James.

Peter looked at him through the railings, his frustration plain. “I said, the only thing you’ll worry about is Evans, not yourself. You don’t even bloody care if you get yourself expelled or killed.”

James turned and limped off to the road into Hogsmeade.

“See! You can’t answer that, Prongs. ‘Cause he’s right!” Sirius yelled after him.

“Stop wasting my time! Climb or leave!”

They climbed. 

James pulled out his wand at the edge of the road, summoning the Knight Bus. Through the steamy windows of the purple triple-decker James saw a sea of faces among the bedposts: the bus was packed with witches and wizards, being the day after Halloween, and James was glad of this, as it meant that four Hogwarts students could go easily unnoticed. James jumped on and tried to keep his head down as he paid the minimum fare, refusing the offered extras. “No, no I don’t want a toothbrush, or hot chocolate…or a ‘surprise’,” he glanced warily at the leering conductor. Saturday nights were always the worst time to get the Knight Bus. 

James looked around and was relieved to see Sirius, Remus, and Peter getting on the bus behind him. Leaving the conductor, who was now watching the aristocratic Sirius very closely, they pushed their way through the throng, and each found a space to sit. James perched himself on the edge of a bed occupied by a wisp of a woman who was snoring noisily and her bags. Sirius gently rolled the little witch over toward the window, leaving three quarters of the mattress empty. Remus lay down beside the ancient lady, too tired to feel properly sorry about stealing her bed, while Peter and Sirius seated themselves on the floor, resting their backs against the frame.

The bus shot off like a rocket and James was hurled back onto the bed, landing on top of the woman’s luggage. The greasy conductor appeared moments later. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and in an oily voice asked, “And where might your destination be, young gentlemen?” His pale eyes strayed to Sirius and he smiled suggestively. Sirius’s grey eyes stared at him impassively through his black curtain of hair, as he made sitting on the floor look extremely elegant and refined. The conductor’s sneer faltered after a few seconds of this indifference.

“14 Murdock Villas, Little Whinging, Surrey.” James had pulled a rather old looking letter from him pocket and was reading the address written on the envelope in emerald green ink. The Hogwarts crest was stamped on the back. 

“Very well, young sir,” was the conductor’s reply before moving off, keen to be away from Sirius’s disconcerting gaze.

Sirius snorted at the wizard’s retreating back. “Does it look like I’d be interested? I mean, I’m not – you know – but if I was, does it look that I would be interested in _that_?”

James was tapping his feet anxiously on the floor even though there still was a twinge of pain in his right ankle. His stomach churned and twisted with terror and guilt. If he hadn’t been such an idiot he would have known where Lily was and got her out of there by now. He remembered seeing her mutilated back and closed eyes, refusing to be sick on a crowded bus. Then he suddenly felt angry with the redhead as nausea swept over him. Dumbledore wouldn’t have sent her away without telling her where. Lily would have sat there and let Dumbledore send her home without a word. She would rather go back to…whatever it was…rather than show a sliver of weakness to the Headmaster. James smiled bitterly; he would have done the same. It was the Gryffindor curse.

“Was that Lily’s Hogwarts letter, Prongs?” came Remus’s gruff voice. The old witch had thrown her arm across him and was squeezing him tightly like a teddy bear. “Gah – she’s breathing on my ear – are we going to her house? 

“What sort of trouble is she in? It can’t be -” Peter lowered his voice, “the Death Eaters, can it?”

James opened his eyes. The fact was that he didn’t even know. Lily had never told him who had beaten her, he just knew that it happened at home. James vowed that if he got her out of this tonight, he was going to make her tell him everything. I deserve to know, he thought.

“It’s not Death Eaters, Wormtail. We just have to get her out of that house. If we don’t – no – we have to get her out. Leave it at that.”

***

Something wet trickled over Lily’s ear as her head lolled to one side. Her father stepped over her limp body and went into the kitchen. Lily lay lifelessly at the bottom of the stairs, feeling the blood seeping out of her; terrified that this was the end. The back of her head felt hot and throbbed with bursts of pain. The light of the upstairs landing burned her eyes and Petunia’s fuzzy outline appeared. Lily opened her mouth, forcing herself to make a sound; “Petunia.”

Petunia rushed down the stairs and fell to her knees at Lily’s side, her pink nightgown pooling around her. She made to pull Lily’s head into her lap, but gasped and stopped. Lily looked around and saw Petunia’s hands. Her fingertips were bloody. 

“Petunia, please, please, help me,” Lily sobbed, clutching her older sister’s hand. “Is it bad? Is it bad?”

Petunia looked into the kitchen at her father. Her expression was one of disbelief as he sat nursing a glass of whiskey, watching the scene in the hall with obvious detachment. “Ring an ambulance, then,” he muttered before taking another sip. 

Petunia was on the phone almost as soon as he said it. Meanwhile, Lily rolled onto her stomach and managed to push herself off the ground. Her entire body shook. From her hands and knees she managed to stand. Using the wall as support she made her way over to the door and slumped against it. She couldn’t hold her head up, instead letting it drop down onto her chest.

Lily listened to Petunia as she made the call. “Hello, ambulance please, yes. Hello, my- my sister’s fallen down the stairs - her head - she hit it off the hall floor. Tiles. Check what? Yes, yes she’s conscious. I will, I will. Oh, alright. So, you’re coming? Okay. Please, please hurry.”

“Always so clumsy us Evans girls, aren’t we?” Lily said bitterly. She raised her head ever so slightly, “Aren’t we, Dad?” she called into the kitchen opposite. 

“Stop, Lily,” hissed Petunia, watching her sister fearfully.

“How many times is it now that I’ve fallen down the stairs? Three? Four?” Lily spoke over her sister, her words slurring slightly. Her vision was becoming hazy and her eyelids were heavy. Lily felt her body sway and she slumped further down the door. It was getting hard to stay awake; she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. But even as consciousness left her, she continued her mocking. “I am a very clumsy girl. I’m lucky to have such a nice dad who will look after me when I hurt myself.” Through the strands of hair falling messily over her face, Lily’s green eyes met her father’s, and she gave him a caustic smile. Then her eyebrows furrowed as she remembered that she did have someone else to look after her. 

“James,” she whispered. “Petunia, get James, will you? Please, get James. He’ll tell us all a joke, it’ll be funny, so funny.” She wished for nothing more than to be back at Hogwarts with James Potter. 

“Of course I’ll get James, just stay awake, Lily.”

“No you won’t. You hate wizards. And James is a wizard.” She reached up and unlatched the door. “I’m going,” she said to her father, who didn’t look up from his drink. “I’m sick of this place. I’m sick of _you_.” 

“Lily, stop please. Don’t - the ambulance is on it’s way,” was all Petunia said. 

Lily slowly pulled open the front door,  “Okay, Petunia, I’ll stop.” She smiled drowsily at her sister. “I’m just going to go and wait outside for the ambulance.” Lily managed a few unsteady steps down the garden path before she heard her father call her.

“Lily, get back here,” he growled. He was angry, as she knew he would be. 

“I’m not coming back.” Lily replied as some of the grogginess lifted in the night air. She began to walk faster down the path and then Petunia called, “Lily, come back! Please, before-”

Lily looked around and saw her father striding through the front door like a raging bull. “Stop right there!” he barked. Lily broke into a run. Just as she started thinking that her luck had finally run out, a miracle occurred. A purple triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere in the street in front of her house.

“Thank you, God!” she cried into the night. The Knight Bus would save her. She ran faster towards it, though the way the world spun around her made her want to stop. Her father’s shouts chased her through the garden gate and she dimly noted Petunia’s sobs. She made it out onto the street just as the doors of the Knight Bus opened and four teenage boys piled out.

***

James Potter had barely got a glimpse of Lily Evans’s house before the girl herself slammed into him at full tilt. His vision was obscured by her mass of red hair and she would have taken him to the ground had it not been for his three friends catching him before he went down. James lifted Lily up and held her away from him so he could look at her critically. She swayed slightly on her feet. Is she drunk? James wondered.

“Lily?”

Her eyes slid into focus, “James?” She stared at him as though she had never seen him before.

“Get back here, young lady,” snarled the man marching down the garden path. The muggle was taller and much broader than the seventeen-year-old wizard, who felt quite scrawny in comparison. James Potter knew immediately that this was her father. He also knew instinctively that it was his handiwork he had seen on Lily’s back in September. 

“Who the hell are you lot?” he demanded, glaring at James who was holding Lily.

James watched as Lily’s pupils dilated in terror. Her head whipped around to lock eyes with her father. Then she looked at James, “James, go, he’ll kill you,” she mumbled, releasing her grip on the collar of his leather jacket and trying to shove him away. 

She made to move back towards her house and James’s mouth fell open. “Lily, what are you doing?” he exclaimed incredulously, gripping her tightly.

“Get back into the house, Lily,” snapped Mr. Evans.

“Get onto the bus, Lily,” cried James, who felt his stomach turn at the thought of leaving here without her. James looked to his friends for help, at a loss. The three boys looked blankly back at him, having no idea what was going on.

 This wasn’t how he had planned it.  

“Sirius, get her onto the bus,” ordered James. Sirius gave her no option but compliance as he and Peter bundled her onto the purple vehicle.

 “LILY!” roared her father, who couldn’t see the Knight Bus or Lily inside it. James watched him scan the street for any sign of his daughter. “What did you just do?” he spat at James.

A strange siren sounded in the distance and James felt Remus grip his shoulder and pull him back to the doors of the bus. “We have to go, _now_.”James complied, walking backwards onto the bus and letting the doors close. But he didn’t take his eyes off the middle-aged Muggle however, who had been watching James’s movements with hooded eyes. Though he was invisible to Lily’s father, James still took an involuntary step back from the doors as the man flung open the gate and stalked out onto the street. 

“LILY!” he roared, searching in the dim orange light of the streetlamps. Unbeknownst to him, Lily was mere feet away. 

On the bus James glanced at the driver. “Open the door for a second,” he said. The old wizard gave him a look as if to say ‘it’s your funeral’ and opened the doors.

“LILY!” the muggle yelled again. 

James Potter moved forward and called to her father. “I hope you got a good look at her, ‘cause she’s not coming back here ever again, you fucking bastard.” 

Graham Evans stared around wildly, unable to see the owner of the voice. “You’re dead next time I see you, you little shit,” he threatened, “Do you hear me? You think she’ll thank you for this? You stupid prick. I’m her father! What are you, wizard? _What are you?_ I’M HER FATHER!”

James had one foot on the pavement before Remus jerked him back (“Are you insane?”) However James Potter knew that Lily’s father had got a good look at him. He would remember his face: the wizard who had stolen his daughter.

“Any longer here and we’ll never get home,” remarked the bus driver, before putting his foot down on the pedal. The Knight Bus shot off like a cork out of a bottle.

Remus stayed up at the front to pay their fares while James forced his way to the back to where Sirius, Peter, and Lily were sitting. It was the bed with the old witch again, except now it seemed as though Sirius had pushed the tiny woman even further into a corner of the mattress and piled her baggage around her like a child’s fort. Sirius had taken James’s seat on the edge of the bed while Peter stood, leaving a space for Remus to lie down. The sleeping Lily was propped up with her back to the window at the bottom of the bed, her legs lying across the mattress. 

Sirius gave James a severe look when he reached them, surprising the Head Boy. “This is what you drag us out of bed in the middle of the night for? To be a designated driver for Evans when she’s piss drunk?” The black-haired boy gestured to Lily’s head resting very low on her chest. “When you said she was in trouble, I thought it was a life or death situation, not that she was about to get an ear-bashing from her old man for being hammered.” 

James couldn’t believe what he was hearing, hadn’t they all just seen what had happened?

 “Hang on- was I the only one who saw what went on back there? Did you not see?” 

“Yes, I did, but did you? She didn’t look in dire need of assistance, Prongs.”

 “Look at her clothes even,” added Peter, “Looks as though she was having a good time tonight.” He gave James an apologetic look.

James surveyed Lily’s attire. He had never seen her wearing anything like this at Hogwarts; the skirt barely covered her arse, for Merlin’s sake. The sickening possibility that he had been wrong, and that Lily hadn’t needed saving in the slightest, swam to the surface of his mind. She was out having the time of her life while I was worrying like an old woman, he thought bitterly, trying not to imagine what filth had been ogling her that night. He glanced at her bare legs and turned away in disgust, unable to look at her as she slept. 

Remus joined them a few minutes after and lay down on the bed next to the old witch, feeling by this stage almost as if he knew her. There was silence among the group for the next ten minutes as no one wished to talk about the pointlessness of what they had just done.

James was staring morosely out of the window into the pitch black when the bus gave a jerk and everyone was thrown forwards. His eyes flicked over to Lily, whose head had slid down the window, smearing the glass with –

“Fuck.”

James leapt up from where he was sitting and turned Lily’s head to the side, revealing a large purple lump that was oozing blood. 

“What the -” said Sirius in a hushed voice. “I didn’t do that.”

James watched Peter’s eyes flick to the back of Lily’s head and then to her face.

“She’s not sleeping,” whispered Remus, sitting up, his face paler than before, “I think she’s unconscious.”

James Potter stared at Lily’s blank expression in horror. “Lily?”

He paused and waited in vain for her to respond.  

“Evans?” said Peter, stepping in closer.

Sirius had turned around in his seat and was prodding her limp form. “Evans, wakey wakey,” he said. 

James pulled her up against him, so that she was almost kneeling on the bed. He shook her, “Lily, come on. Wake up, Lily. Wake up. You weren’t drunk, were you? You weren’t even out tonight. Ah, Merlin – please, wake up. Wake up, Lily. Wake _up_.”

“Wake up, dear,” came a feeble voice. The old witch had obviously been roused by the commotion, but did not seem very shocked to find five teenagers in the bed with her. She peered over her suitcases curiously at the attempt to revive Lily.

James would not allow himself to panic. Shifting Lily’s weight to his left arm, he reached into his back pocket for his wand. “ _Enervate_ ,” he whispered, pointing it at the Head Girl.

Lily’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal bewildered emerald eyes. She glanced at James’s face and then to his left arm wrapped firmly around her. “James?”

“Hm?” was his reply, as he watched her eyes.

She moved her face close to his. “Is this a dream?” 

James’s answer was cut off by Sirius’s snort. “I’m sure it is for one of us,” he muttered, giving James a pointed look.  

Lily removed herself from James’s arms and clambered off the bed. She was fully alert now, and also fully aware of the throbbing lump on her head and of what she was wearing. She noted the presence of Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Facing James, she asked, “What are your friends doing here? Why are you here, for that matter?”

“We came to rescue you, o fair Lily of the valley,” sang Sirius.

Lily’s jaw clenched as Sirius crooned about their epic quest, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on James, who stared defiantly back at her. 

Lily felt herself tremble with rage. How dare he? How dare he come after her, to her home, in some dim-witted act of heroism? She had never wanted anyone to see her like that- to see her father (for Merlin knows James must have guessed who he was.) And what was worse, he brought his mates along for the ride. While it appeared as though they knew nothing about James’s reasons for his night expedition, she still felt like she wanted to be sick. 

As the seconds ticked slowly past, the tension grew.

James Potter couldn’t take the silence. How dare she be angry with him for rescuing her? He had risked his neck to save her, and now she had the gall to glare at him? No bloody way.

“What else could I have done?” he spat suddenly. Everyone flinched except for Lily. 

She put her hands on her hips. “What else could you have done? Nothing! No one asked you to do anything, James Potter, not a thing.”

“Oh really?” he retorted. “I wonder what other marks you would have had if I had done nothing; that bloody lump looks bad enough.” Lily reflexively touched the back of her head as she glowered at James. “What would you have been like tomorrow? Would you even have made it back to Hogwarts?”

“Don’t be an idiot, I would have been fine,” Lily snapped, belying her earlier fears. She glanced at the three wizards who were watching the exchange with rapt attention. (“I think they’re speaking in some sort of code,” whispered Sirius to the tiny witch who was also listening.) Remus Lupin caught her eye. She really didn’t want to have this conversation in front of him, especially; he would figure it out sooner than the other two. 

James folded his arms. “Oh so now I’m an idiot? Well, excuse me for trying to SAVE YOUR LIFE. I didn’t realise how rude it was of me.” 

Lily shook her head incredulously. “Rude? James, that doesn’t even come close. How dare you come to my house? How dare you. I can’t believe you even did that, let alone taking your friends along! Did you even think this through? What about my trunk- my books, my clothes? What am I going to tell Dumbledore? Did you even consider how I would feel before you came?”

James was silent.

“Of course you didn’t think about me. All that mattered tonight was how _you_ would feel if you didn’t do something.”

“That’s not true,” argued James. Then his eyes flickered and he licked his lips; “Would you even have told me – if you had come back tomorrow – where Dumbledore had sent you?”

Lily’s look made her answer clear.

“You would have just hidden it, wouldn’t you?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I thought…I thought… after September you let me in - you let me know. I thought that you would let me know again.”

“I didn’t let you know, James. It was a slip, a mistake.” Lily’s tone was regretful, as though she was explaining to a child that Santa Claus wasn’t real. “You are my friend. But that night I was tired, I hadn’t eaten, I was in pain; that’s why you found out about all of this.”

“So, what is this, you and I?” demanded James, trying hard to forget about Thursday night. “Is this just a way of keeping me quiet, us being friends? Because real friends _want_ to tell each other about themselves, Lily, that’s what they're for.”

Lily sighed, “I’m not most people’s friend, James, I thought you knew that.”

James obviously wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

The redhead looked at her hands and then at James again. “And besides, I’ve never told anyone about what you know. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

The Head Boy held her gaze. “Start at the beginning.” 


End file.
